BANC 

um 

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THE  UNI 
OF  CAD 


THE 
SOCIALIST 

AND  THE 

PRINCE 


M'RS. 

F'REMOfiT 
OLVE'R 


PRICE 


FUNK    &    WAGNALLS 
COMPANY 


SOCIALIST 

and  the 

PRINCE 


Novel  of  California  Life 


THE  scenes  and  action  are  in  the  days  of  the  anti- 
Chinese  labor  agitation.  Paul  Stryne,  leader  of 
the  workingmen,  and  Ruspoli,  an  Italian  prince, 
are  rivals  for  the  hand  of  Theodosia  Peyton,  the  daughter 
of  a  millionaire.  Swayed  now  by  the  courtly  grace  and 
subtle  class  sympathy  of  the  prince,  now  by  the  master- 
ful will  and  altruistic  purpose  of  the  socialist,  the  impres- 
sionable girl,  in  a  mood  which  overpowers  her  for  the 
time,  betroths  herself  first  to  one  and  then  to  the  other. 
There  are  many  situations  of  dramatic  power,  from  the 
love  scenes  to  the  street  riots,  and  from  the  altruist's 
lofty  orations  to  the  jealous  lover's  duel  with  Prince 
Ruspoli.  Social  conditions  are  strongly  contrasted,  and 
the  interest  is  intense  throughout. 


Price,  $1.50 


MRS.  FREMONT  OLDER 


The  Socialist  and  the  Prince 


Br 


Socialist  and  the  Prince 


MRS.  FREm* 


, 


ar  w*> 

Ye*  *s 


LOOKED    AT  HEX 
n'AIT/\<-    FOK    II Eh'     TO    SPEAK 


The 
Socialist  and  the  Prince 


MRS.  FREMONT  OLDER 


Frontispiece  By 
HAPRISON  FISHER 


f       w  VCr  1     ^  rX 

A  OF 

I    UNfV 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 

New  York  and  London 

1903 


Copyright,  1903, 

by 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 
Registered  at  Stationer's  Hall,  London 

Published,  February,  1903 
[Printtd  in  the  United  State*  of  A  t»*rica] 


3  F      UIJF/-F7 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  "THE  CHINESE  MUST  Go!"          .        .        .  i 

II.  THE  SAND-LOT 17 

III.  NOB  HILL, 28 

IV.  THE  PRINCE 4l 

V.  THE  ARREST  OF  STRYNE 55 

VI.  THEODOSIA'S  SIX-IN-HAND,   .        .        .        .        .    66 

VII.  THEODOSIA  AS  BONDSMAID 79 

VIII.  THE  PRINCE  MEETS  THE  SOCIALIST,    ...    91 

IX.  THE  BIRTH  OF  A  PARTY 103 

X.  THEODOSIA  EXAMINES  HERSELF,  .        .        .        .in 

XI.  STALKING  THE  LION, 119 

XII.  THE  DINNER  TO  STRYNE, 127 

XIII.  THE  VALET  OF  A  GENTLEMAN,     .        .        .        .141 

"XIV.  STRYNE'S  DICTATORSHIP,       .  .        .        .  156 

XV.  THE  WORKING  MEN'S  CONVENTION,    .        .        .165 

XVI.  THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE,          ....        .  177 

XVII.  VIOLETS, 191 

XVIII.  THE  PRINCE  RECEIVES  His  CONGE,     .        .        .206 

XIX.  THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  WOOD,          .        .        .213 

XX.  THEODOSIA  TORMENTS  HER  LOVER,    .        .        .230 

XXI.  THE  GAGE  OF  BATTLE, 335 

XXII.  THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM,          .        .        .  241 
v 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  THE  DUEL,     .        . 259 

XXIV.  THE  LOSER  WINS 271 

XXV.  A  VIOLET  BRIDAL 283 

XXVI.  THE  PASSING  OF  STRYNE 287 

XXVII.  STRUGGLING  BACK  TO  LIFE,         ....  292 
XXVIII.  THE  LAST  MEETING, 300 


The  Socialist  and  the  Prince 


A  deep,  low  murmur  swelling  from  the  ground  ; 

A  man  impassioned,  round  whose  nervous  form 
Eddied  and  swept  a  gale  of  gathering  sound, 

A  deep-toned  presage  of  the  coming  storm  ; 

A  sea  of  faces  ;  and  the  sand-lots  scored 
By  countless  feet  as,  rising  from  his  lair, 

The  lion  Labor  shook  his  mane  and  roared 
A  potent  challenge  through  the  darkening  air ; 

A  sudden  silence  eloquent  as  death ; 

And  in  the  hush,  as  Destiny  drew  nigh, 
A  mighty  spirit  from  the  Lion's  breath 

Born  in  the  land  and  nevermore  to  die. 

— LOWELL  O.  RBBSE. 


Viif 


THE  SOCIALIST 
AND  THE  PRINCE 

Chapter  I 
"THE  CHINESE  MUST  GO!" 

[URING  the  seventies  nothing  was  extraor- 
dinary in  San  Francisco  because  every- 
thing was  extraordinary. 

The  rainbow's  pot  of  gold  was  found  on  Twin 
Peaks.  It  was  quite  possible. 

Aladdin's  lantern  could  be  had  for  the  asking.  No 
one  doubted  it. 

Jack's  beanstalk  had  grown  to  the  sky.  Stars 
might  be  plucked  by  those  who  would  climb.  Was 
anything  more  logical  ? 

Foot  passengers  were  warned  against  stubbing 
their  toes :  there  was  danger  of  falling  upon  Corn- 
stock  quartz  projecting  from  the  ground. 

The  gracious  goddess  Fortuna  dwelt  on  Tamal- 
pais.  Life  was  too  brief  and  merry  to  clamber  up 
the  sides  of  the  purple  mountain.  Let  Fortuna  her- 
self ascend — there  were  other  goddesses  to  woo. 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

San  Francisco  was  a  drunk,  delirious  city.  The 
population  was  divided  into  two  classes,  millionaires 
and  those  who  hoped  to  be  millionaires. 

There  is  no  hunger  when  thousands  feast  upon 
hope.  A  prospective  owner  of  a  bonanza  could  not 
make  himself  absurd  by  complaining  of  no  breakfast. 
Amidst  the  sweat  and  smell  of  the  workshop  laborers 
considered  the  cut  of  their  lackeys'  livery. 

The  working  man  was  never  more  prosperous.  The 
working  man  was  never  more  discontented.  He  had 
seen  his  companions  close  their  eyes  and  open  their 
hands.  Directly  the  tail  of  a  comet  showered  pre- 
cious stones.  These  men  gathered  their  treasures 
indifferently,  drifted  away  from  toil,  spoke  like  gen- 
tlemen, looked  like  gentlemen,  and  were  gentle- 
men. 

Presently  the  working  man  believed  something 
wrong  when  Seal  Rocks  did  not  nourish  roses,  and 
strawberries  refused  to  thrive  on  sand-lots. 

In  the  middle  of  the  seventies  came  a  cataclysm 
that  changed  the  surface  of  San  Francisco.  A  great 
bank  failed. 

That  such  an  event  could  occur  was  a  shock  to  the 
hope  of  the  city.  It  was  a  hard  world  of  reality 
after  all.  One  could  be  sad  in  California  as  well  as 
in  the  East,  South,  or  across  the  seas  from  whence 
these  adventurers  came. 


THE  CHINESE  MUST  GO!" 


Even  those  who  had  not  lost  by  the  failure  of  the 
bank  felt  hungry  after  the  occurrence. 

Another  catastrophe  befell  the  city.  Gold  had 
been  gushing  from  the  veins  of  the  gigantic  Mazeppa 
mine.  It  was  strange  that  none  recognized  the  arte- 
rial blood  flooding  the  State.  The  Mazeppa  was 
dead. 

Some  dreamer  had  believed  that  still  another  heart 
of  treasure  might  be  found  in  this  mine  of  Ophir. 
At  one  time  quite  probable,  now  it  was  as  remote  as 
the  rainbow's  base  or  Aladdin's  lamp. 

The  peach-blossom  hue  left  the  air.  Joy,  youth, 
hope,  ambition  perished.  Men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren were  hungry.  They  were  even  reduced  to  wish- 
ing that  two  "  bits  "  might  be  changed  into  nickels. 
Many  laboring  men  were  idle. 

The  middle  classes  felt  the  pinch  of  need.  The 
millionaires  went  back  to  the  bar  or  sluice-box.  To 
this  day  their  descendants  boast  of  the  sums  their 
grandfathers  lost,  and  thus  alleviate  their  present 
poverty. 

There  are  still  extant  the  deserted  foundations  of 
vast  buildings  begun  at  that  period,  but  never  fin- 
ished. 

Nickels  were  seen  in  currency.  Values  assumed 
rational  form.  The  boom  had  burst. 

It  was  not  until  then  the  laborer  realized  that, 
3 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

while  he  had  allowed  himself  to  become  intoxicated 
by  the  aroma  of  his  harvest,  thousands  of  yellow,  in- 
significant worms  had  curled  into  the  blossoms  and 
destroyed  them  before  the  fruit  came.  These  were 
the  Chinamen. 

If  a  cook  was  out  of  employment  she  was  told  that 
a  Chinaman  had  taken  her  place.  Laundrymen  lost 
their  clients  because  the  Chinamen  underbid  them. 
Seamstresses  famished  while  Chinamen  performed 
their  work.  It  was  unfortunately  true  that  the 
Chinaman  usually  labored  more  conscientiously  than 
the  Caucasian. 

The  Chinamen  spent  nothing  for  necessities  or 
luxuries.  None  but  California,  the  fabled  land  of 
riches,  could  endure  the  outflow  of  gold  sent  to  China. 
There  was  no  return  from  it  except  more  Chinamen. 

They  came  by  every  boat.  They  came  over  the 
borders.  When  news  arrived  of  the  plague  in  the 
Orient,  the  working  man  cried,  "  There  is  no  plague 
but  Chinamen." 

Railroad  builders,  capitalists,  fetched  them  by  the 
hundred,  and  grew  rich  from  the  putrid  social  condi- 
tions of  the  rotting  empires  of  the  East. 

There  was  no  one  to  protest  but  a  few  politicians 
during  campaigns.  Objections  ceased  with  election. 
The  Chinaman  promised  to  be  a  serviceable  political 
issue  of  perennial  utility. 


THE  CHINESE  MUST  GOt" 


Idle  men  huddled  together  and  discussed  their 
wrongs  in  the  squares,  parks,  and  on  street  corners. 
Often  moved  by  their  passions  they  swept  into  the 
Chinese  localities,  set  fire  to  the  buildings,  and  killed 
the  occupants  as  they  fled  from  the  flames. 

After  the  tempest  of  wrath  subsided,  nothing  de- 
cisive or  effective  was  done. 

Sometimes  San  Francisco  had  a  presentiment  that 
it  was  to  be  destroyed  by  fire.  This  premonition 
seemed  about  to  be  fulfilled  one  evening.  While 
the  safety  committee  was  discussing  how  to  protect 
property  and  life,  a  cry  went  up  the  throat  of  the 
city  that  the  Pacific  Mail  dock  had  been  set  on  fire. 
It  was  thought  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  general  con- 
flagration, and  rioting  began.  In  the  struggle  to 
suppress  the  rioters  several  laborers  were  killed. 

The  following  day  in  every  workshop  and  factory 
circulars  were  distributed.  On  them  in  black  letters 
was  printed : 


This  Evening 
At   GOLDEN    GATE   TEMPLE 

A  Working  Man 

WILL    SAY 

SOMETHING  TO  WORKING  MEN 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

These  leaflets  were  scattered  wherever  a  laborer 
could  be  found,  and  were  circulated  by  one  man 
walking  slowly.  He  appeared  to  take  the  measure 
of  those  he  met.  As  he  exchanged  a  few  words  with 
each  recipient  of  his  pamphlet  he  seemed  to  talk 
merely  to  observe.  The  calm  gaze  of  his  gray  eyes 
fell  upon  the  city  in  the  same  way.  This  stranger 
gave  the  impression  of  making  an  accurate  map  of 
San  Francisco  to  be  stowed  away  in  his  brain. 

Every  one  turned  to  look  at  him  because  he  wore 
a  long,  dark-blue  cape  lined  with  scarlet,  extending 
nearly  to  his  knees.  Altho  his  hat  was  of  the  black 
felt  common  in  the  West,  the  fact  that  the  broad 
brim  was  bent  upward  flat  against  the  front  of  the 
crown  made  it  marked. 

Except  for  these  two  features  the  man  might  have 
been  unnoticed,  for  he  was  not  handsome  as  beauty 
is  reckoned.  His  head  had  been  modeled  as  it  were 
by  a  vigorous,  impulsive,  masculine  hand,  which  left 
it  full  of  straight,  inartistic,  abrupt  lines.  His  feat- 
ures had  a  crude,  lumpy,  unfinished  appearance.  A 
piece  of  flesh  expanding  into  broad,  coarse  nostrils 
was  his  nose.  True,  steady  eyes  hid  themselves  in 
rough  caverns.  The  man's  brow  was  thick  and 
strong,  and  the  chin  was  its  counterpart.  It  was  a 
head  that  told  of  growling,  terrible  passions. 

As  the  stranger  walked  the  streets,  from  the  man- 


THE  CHINESE  MUST  GO! 


ner  of  holding  his  sturdy,  heavy  shoulders  erect,  in 
the  poise  of  his  head,  in  the  resolute  way  of  closing 
his  lips,  one  read  the  surety  of  the  lion's  keeper  who 
has  tamed  his  own  beast.  The  man  knew  just  where 
to  cudgel  himself. 

That  evening  Golden  Gate  Temple  was  filled,  unto 
the  highest  gallery,  by  laborers,  their  wives,  some  curi- 
ous spectators,  and  the  reporters.  It  was  something 
more  than  the  usual  assemblage  of  discontented  when 
one  of  their  number  speaks.  The  better  sort  of 
artisan  was  present. 

When  the  president  of  one  of  the  unions  arose  to 
make  a  preamble  to  the  introduction  of  the  speaker, 
the  audience  became  restless.  The  hope  that  he 
would  soon  finish  enforced  attention.  The  stranger, 
noting  the  faces  surrounding  him,  listened  to  his  pre- 
decessor. 

With  his  hat  and  cape  removed,  the  man  looked 
like  an  American.  Yet  he  might  easily  have  been 
a  Frenchman  or  German,  altho  he  was  a  perfect  type 
of  no  one  race. 

McCann,  the  president  of  the  union,  had  few  op- 
portunities to  address  so  large  an  audience.  He  was 
a  huge,  red-faced  Irishman,  and,  charmed  by  the 
swells  and  glides  of  his  own  voice,  dragged  on  weary- 
ingly.  Finally  the  stranger  was  the  only  person 
listening  to  McCann, 

7 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

His  eloquence  promised  to  be  endless  when  fifty 
voices  chorused :  "  Shut  up,  McCann ;  you  ain't  the 
whole  show.  Give  the  other  fellow  a  chance. " 

McCann  could  not  talk  against  the  tide,  and  so  he 
ceased  speaking  of  himself  and,  motioning  his  hand 
toward  the  stranger,  said : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen :  I  have  the  pleasure  to 
interduce  to  ye  a  brother  working  man,  Mr.  Stryne — 
Mr.  Paul  Stryne,  the  distinguished  traveler  and  social 
philosopher.  You  all  know  of  him." 

None,  of  them  had  heard  his  name  before.  Mc- 
Cann made  his  acquaintance  but  that  morning.  Yet 
they  all  applauded  and  cheered  as  Stryne  bowed  his 
acknowledgments. 

There  was  something  in  the  speaker's  salutation 
which  irritated  the  audience.  His  heels  almost 
came  together  and  the  bow  was  that  of  a  man  of 
rank.  For  a  moment  the  audience  was  chilled. 
They  felt  that  he  was  not  one  of  them,  and  that 
they  were  about  to  be  lectured. 

The  people  were  reassured  by  Stryne' s  clothing, 
for  a  handkerchief,  knotted  loosely  about  the  neck  of 
his  blue  flannel  shirt,  took  the  place  of  a  collar.  As 
he  arose  to  the  height  of  five  feet  ten,  he  seemed 
like  a  boy  prematurely  old.  He  was  not  more  than 
thirty. 

After  the  applause  subsided,  Stryne  began  in  a 
8 


THE  CHINESE  MUST  GO!" 


low,  deep  voice,  which  was  but  a  whisper  of  the 
reservoir  of  tone  from  which  it  was  drawn : 

"  MEN  AND  WOMEN  :  How  many  are  there  present 
who  want  to  hear  lies  ?  Hands  up.  Good !  None. 
How  many  here  want  to  listen  to  the  truth  ?  Every- 
body !  Everybody !  This  is  God's  country  after  all. 
Very  well,  men  and  women,  if  you  have  the  truth, 
remember  it  is  not  my  fault.  It  is  yours.  You 
have  voted  for  it.  You  shall  have  it." 

These  first  few  words  convinced  that  he  was  an 
American  working  man.  As  Stryne  continued  his 
voice  lost  its  music.  The  notes  broke  into  discord, 
but  they  shrieked  into  the  listeners'  ears  and  held 
the  thought. 

"  I  have  been  introduced  as  a  traveler  and  philoso- 
pher. Let  me  disabuse  your  minds.  I  am  a  laborer, 
a  working  man,  like  yourselves,  and  when  I  die  I 
want  no  other  obituary — An  American,  a  working 
man. 

"To  be  sure,  I  have  seen  more  countries  of  the 
globe  than  this.  I  will  tell  you  why.  In  the  begin- 
ning I  was  a  seaman.  When  I  left  my  ship,  want 
drove  me  from  England  to  France,  France  to  Ger- 
many, Germany  to  Italy,  and  from  Italy  back  to  the 
United  States,  my  home.  I  can  paint  you  no  brill- 
iant picture  of  my  travels,  for  I  saw  only  the  poverty 
and  misery  of  those  countries. 

9 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Which  is  the  best  government,  you  ask  ?  Which 
is  the  worst?  God  knows.  Everywhere  it  is  the 
same  story  of  protecting  those  who  have  and  taking 
from  those  that  have  not.  This  crime  has  been 
seared  into  my  eyes.  Even  in  the  United  States, 
the  Utopia  of  Jean  Jacques,  the  ideal  of  Jefferson, 
the  poor  man  is  begging  for  work  and  the  rich  man 
is  saying:  '  You  can't  have  it.  I  will  goto  Asia  for 
laborers.  Starve.  I  must  grow  richer. '  In  the 
United  States  this  happens,  and  we,  you  and  I,  fools, 
allow  it." 

When  the  applause  forced  Stryne  to  cease  speak- 
ing he  said  in  somewhat  lowered  tones : 

"  MEN  AND  WOMEN  :  I  am  glad  of  your  approval, 
for  it  shows  that  I  am  saying  for  you  what  you  all  feel 
and  think.  That  is  why  you  applaud.  It  is  because 
I  am  your  voice,  because  I  am  telling  you  the  truth. 

"  This  is  the  beginning  but  not  the  end  of  our  ac- 
quaintance. We  will  battle  for  labor,  for  our  right, 
and  the  truth  many  years.  If  ever  you  find  I  have 
deserted  you  and  justice,  men  and  women,  hang  me, 
I  shall  deserve  it." 

Stryne  raised  his  hands  in  the  air  as  he  uttered 
these  last  words  with  a  cry  that  reached  the  street. 
His  fingers  were  knotty  and  compact,  not  so  much 
from  toil  as  from  character.  The  wrists  were  as 
bluntly  square  and  firm  as  his  chin. 

10 


THE  CHINESE  MUST  GO!" 


"  First,  men  and  women,  I  ask  your  permission  to 
remove  my  coat.  I  never  can  talk  with  it  on." 

This  act  placed  the  stranger  upon  a  footing  of 
years  of  personal  friendship  with  the  spectators. 
His  cheeks  had  flushed,  his  eyes  darkened,  and  his 
brown  hair  was  loosened  unconsciously.  As  he 
stood  before  the  audience  he  might  not  have  been 
more  than  one  and  twenty.  Speaker  and  listeners 
realized  that  they  were  connected  by  currents  of 
sympathy  that  were  destined  to  weld  them  together. 

"  If  any  man  has  a  right  to  talk  at  a  time  of  de- 
pression like  this,  it  is  I.  Let  me  tell  you,  want 
rocked  my  cradle  and  I  sucked  the  teat  of  hunger. 
I  cried  to  my  mother  for  bread  and  she  gave  me  tears. 
I  have  trod  the  thorny  valley  of  pain.  Ever  at  my 
side  was  the  black  shadow  of  misery,  the  companion 
who  never  deserted  me.  The  only  philosophy  I  un- 
derstand is  that  of  grief. 

"  My  friends,  do  you  know  why  I  am  here  speak- 
ing to  you  this  minute  ?  It  is  because  of  a  sight  I 
saw  last  night.  Four  poor  young  men,  laborers,  were 
shot  down  while  defending  Chinamen  for  a  corpo- 
ration of  millionaires.  They  were  volunteers  who 
perished  as  nobly  as  any  soldier.  Where  were  the 
men  whose  property  was  attacked  ?  At  their  clubs ; 
in  their  houses  on  Nob  Hill,  eating  ten-course  din- 
ners with  their  mistresses ;  in  their  yachts  on  the 

ii 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Mediterranean — in  any  place  but  where  they  should 
be. 

"  Was  any  capitalist,  bloated  from  the  blood  of  the 
people,  killed  ?  Was  any  son  of  the  plutocrat  shot  ? 
No.  Last  night,  as  always,  it  was  the  poor  man's 
son,  the  poor  mother's  son  who  died.  My  impulse, 
friends,  was  as  generous  as  yours.  I,  also,  was  there 
defending  the  property  of  the  Pacific  Mail.  When 
a  nineteen-year-old  boy  fell  over  into  my  arms  dead, 
I  left  you  all. 

"  I  said,  '  Here  we  are  dying  for  the  rich  and  their 
Chinamen.  Men,  women,  I've  not  slept  since.  One 
thought,  one  purpose  has  frenzied  me,  to  arouse  you  to 
the  use  of  the  power  that  is  in  your  hands,  the  ballot. " 

Perhaps  it  was  not  so  much  what  Stryne  said  as 
his  vehemence  of  utterance  that  held  the  audience 
dry- lipped  awaiting  more  words.  Greater  approba- 
tion than  applause  came — silence. 

"  In  the  beginning  I  was  asked  the  difference  be- 
tween the  United  States  and  the  countries  across  the 
Atlantic.  It  is  this :  Here  it  is  possible  for  each 
of  us  to  have  as  much  power  in  election  as  a  Vander- 
bilt,  a  Gould,  or  an  Astor.  We  all  have  reform  in 
our  hands.  Let  the  laboring  men  organize  into  a 
solid  mass  which  no  charge  from  capital  can  break, 
and  I  tell  you  we  will  force  justice  from  the  gullets 
of  the  men  on  Nob  Hill." 

12 


THE   CHINESE  MUST  GO!" 


Stryne  mopped  his  brow  and  the  cords  of  his  thick 
neck  stood  out  like  pencils.  He  realized  that  these 
simple  impressionable  beings  before  him  had  sur- 
rendered their  souls  to  him,  and  he  went  on  as  if  in- 
spired by  it.  A  smile  crept  about  his  lips  at  times 
as  he  spoke,  and  beautified  his  countenance.  It 
broke  the  straight  line  of  his  mouth  and  gave  it  a 
gentle  expression.  The  smile  was  doubly  effective 
since  for  the  most  part  his  features  were  grim,  de- 
termined, and  sad.  What  the  smile  betokened  no 
one  could  explain.  To  the  audience  it  was  the 
promise  of  hope,  a  rainbow  illumining  the  world. 

"  Now,  men  and  women,  I  want  you  to  talk.  Are 
we  to  keep  on  defending  Chinamen?  Are  we  to 
keep  on  defending  Nob  Hill,  or  are  we  to  work  for 
ourselves  and  the  right  ?  " 

The  audience  failed  not  to  respond  with  its  brassy 
shrieks  of  "  Yes !  "  Hats  were  thrown  into  the  air, 
and  the  speaker  realized  that  they  and  their  passions 
were  under  his  control. 

"  Good,  my  friends.  You  have  decided  it.  You 
have  voted. 

"Men,  working  men,  I  appeal  to  you.  Let  me 
hear  your  voice  again.  How  many  present  want  to 
see  your  honest  wives  in  rags  that  the  capitalists 
may  have  harlots? 

"  Not  one ! 

13 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

"  How  many  have  the  heart  to  tell  their  children 
that  there  is  no  bread  to  be  had  because  there  is  no 
work?" 

Stryne's  audience  was  growling  with  him.  He 
shook  his  head  and  waved  his  fist  until  he  was  like 
a  madman — to  all  but  the  reporters.  The  men  had 
reached  the  point  where  he  could  have  issued  any 
commands  and  they  would  obey. 

"  Mothers,  women,  when  you  go  to  your  homes  to- 
night and  find  no  food  for  your  babes,  it  is  not  your 
fault,  it  is  not  your  good  man's  fault.  It  is  because 
it  has  been  shipped  across  the  seas  to  China.  It 
has  been  stolen  from  you  by  great  railroad  builders, 
by  great  capitalists.  Those  jewels  on  my  lady's 
bosom  are  yours.  They  belong  to  your  hungry  chil- 
dren. Are  you  willing  to  give  up  your  food,  women 
of  the  people  of  San  Francisco,  that  those  haughty 
dames  who  are  no  better  than  you  may  blaze  at  the 
opera?" 

The  flame  of  his  youth  and  energy  leaped  from  his 
lips  and  enkindled  them  all. 

"  I  put  it  to  you  together,  are  you  going  to  have 
liberty,  or  are  you  going  to  be  chattels  ?  I  ask  the 
great  common  man,  the  people — the  word  that  next 
to  liberty  smacks  the  sweetest." 

Stryne's  soul  was  in  his  mouth  and  he  launched 
forth  into  a  review  of  California  as  he  had  learned 

*4 


THE  CHINESE  MUST  GO!" 


it  in  a  few  weeks.  Not  a  man  present  could  have 
given  it  more  accurately.  He  spoke  of  the  present 
and  the  future  as  it  might  be  at  the  working  man's 
behest. 

"  I  warn  you,  men,  that  we  can  not  live  with  these 
yellow  creatures.  We  are  in  a  cage  of  reptiles  and 
the  white  man  or  the  serpent  must  die.  Am  I  going 
to  help  you  drive  them  out  ?  Shall  we  vote  to  ship 
them  back  to  China  ?  If  they  refuse  to  go,  shall  we 
drive  them  down  into  the  .sea?  If  the  ballot  fails, 
let  it  be  the  bullet.  Shall  we  throw  down  the  gage 
of  battle  to  the  lions  of  corruption  ?  Shall  we  make 
the  vow?" 

Then  the  whole  assembly  arose  and  took  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  principle. 

"  Remember,  men  and  women  of  San  Francisco, 
the  law  is  our  father  and  mother,  but  liberty  is  our 
soul.  Our  oath,  whatever  happens,  The  Chinese  must 
go  !  " 

Stryne  raised  his  right  arm  with  the  gesture  of 
a  sword  as  he  uttered  the  last  word.  It  seemed  that 
his  voice  was  the  heart  and  voice  of  the  multi- 
tude. He  expressed  the  innermost  soul  of  the 
audience. 

Before  the  echo  of  the  speaker's  words  had  died, 
the  hundreds  present  took  up  the  shout,  "The 
Chinese  must  go ! "  It  was  on  the  street  and  the 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

ragged  rabble  everywhere  was  repeating  it  as  a 
battle-cry. 

"The  Chinese  must  go !  "  took  the  place  of  bread 
and  butter.  It  was  the  panacea  for  all  ills  and  evils. 

The  words  had  been  thundered  down  to  them  by 
a  new  Moses.  Women  threw  their  flowers,  their  last 
dimes,  at  the  hero.  They  wept  and  touched  his  coat 
as  if  even  that  were  holy.  Stalwart  men  took  the 
prophet  up  on  their  shoulders  and  swept  down  the 
street.  His  cape  had  been  turned  inside  out  and  it 
flared  behind  him  like  a  flame. 

The  leaders  ran  up  Kearny  Street  and  back  again. 
As,  proud  of  their  abasement,  they  rushed  down  Mar- 
ket Street,  holding  Stryne  aloft,  the  crowd  gath- 
ered numbers.  Everywhere  there  was  but  one  cry, 
"Whatever  happens,  the  Chinese  must  go."  Men 
and  women  who  had  not  heard  the  speech  chanted 
the  refrain. 

Upon  returning  from  the  ferry  some  one  shouted, 
"Nob  Hill!"  It  was  the  impulse  to  send  them 
headlong  up  California  Street  with  the  firebrand  on 
their  shoulders. 

As  the  dwellers  within  the  stately  mansions  looked 
down  upon  the  thoroughfare,  they  realized  that  it  was 
the  beginning.  What  would  the  end  be  ? 


16 


Chapter  II 
THE  SAND-LOT 

IAD  the  Comstock  risen  or  fallen  in  value 
fifty  points  San  Francisco  would  not  have 
been  more  alive  than  it  was  to  the  Golden 
Gate  Temple  meeting. 

It  was  a  comforting  belief  generally  held  that  Stryne 
was  a  bomb  which  had  exploded  in  its  fall  through 
the  air.  This  was  the  view  of  the  prosperous  con- 
servative classes.  Only  a  few  of  these  were  suffi- 
ciently interested  to  attend  his  lectures. 

It  was  the  business  of  the  newspapers  to  jeer  at 
any  serious  influence  that  he  could  hope  to  exert. 
One  young  reporter  wrote  of  him,  "  Stryne 's  passion- 
ate zeal  makes  him  exaggerate  conditions,  but  he 
believes  the  facts  he  gives."  His  journal  refused  to 
publish  this  opinion  and  he  resigned  and  went  back 
to  college.  There  he  wrote  against  modern  journal- 
ism. The  young  man  afterward  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  his  paper  make  the  same  statement  editori- 
ally. 

The  new  agitator's  audiences  grew  until  there  was 

no  hall  in  the  city  large  enough  to  contain  them. 
2  17 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Tickets  were  given  out  as  for  the  theater.  The  city 
was  aflame  with  "  The  Chinese  must  go !  " 

Within  a  month  Stryne  opened  a  Working  Men's 
Headquarters  and  employed  several  secretaries.  He 
had  underestimated  his  own  strength  and  the  readi- 
ness of  the  people  for  a  leader.  At  this  moment  he 
was  little  more  than  one  of  the  followers  of  his  own 
principle,  for  the  movement  had  become  so  great  that 
he  was  whirled  along  with  it.  In  spite  of  all  this  he 
accepted  the  changed  situation  with  the  royal  com- 
placency of  heaven-born  right  descending  from  the 
dawn  of  history. 

In  private,  he  was  still  the  same  impassive,  nerve- 
less man  as  on  the  first  day  of  his  appearance. 
Around  him  assembled  the  anarchist  despising  all 
law  and  government,  the  blatant  union  leader,  the 
gentleman  semi-demented  because  evolution  is  in- 
visible, and  the  helpless,  hungry  poor.  Without  him 
they  were  harmless,  floating  wreckage.  By  him  they 
were  congealed  and  they  became  a  mass.  Whether 
they  were  to  be  powerful  or  impotent  depended  upon 
Stryne. 

At  the  Golden  Gate  Temple,  Stryne  frequently 
was  lost  in  his  hyperbolic  phrases.  When  his 
audience  was  carried  on  by  him  until  it  fell  at  his 
feet,  he  convinced  men  that  he  had  the  eloquence 

of  sincerity,  but  he  was  accused  of  resorting  to  the 

18 


THE  SAND-LOT 


tricks  of  the  demagog  and  the  theater.  Honesty  is 
doubted  as  often  as  hypocrisy  is  divined. 

Certain  it  was  that  his  words  aroused  all  the  latent 
action  and  daring  within  his  hearers.  The  most  in- 
different left  his  presence  inspired  to  do  and  create. 

At  the  Working  Men's  Headquarters  he  ever 
united  his  followers  by  conciliating  dissenting 
parties.  The  vulgar,  the  curious,  the  interested, 
could  not  weary  his  patience.  Whatever  replies  he 
might  make  to  the  press  publicly,  privately  he  was 
cordial  and  kindly  to  the  representatives  of  the 
journals  that  abused  him. 

Presently  his  following  grew  to  such  magnitude 
that  he  opened  branches  of  the  Working  Men's  Club 
in  many  parts  of  the  city.  From  all  of  them  floated 
the  banner  inscribed,  "  The  Chinese  must  go !  " 

Those  expecting  to  see  the  movement  decrease 
were  chagrined  to  learn  that  the  agitator  was  obliged 
to  speak  at  two  or  three  different  halls  in  one  eve- 
ning. 

The  newspapers  more  than  the  public  marked  his 
growing  power  and  were  vicious  in  their  attacks. 
At  first  he  replied,  but  later  he  said  nothing. 
Finally  The  Herald,  a  morning  journal,  accused  him 
of  dishonesty,  declared  that  he  was  sending  out  of 
the  country  the  money  that  came  into  his  possession. 

When  he  entered  Golden  Gate  Temple  that  eve- 
'9 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

ning,  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  met  his  followers 
since  the  article  appeared.  As  he  threw  off  his  cape 
he  found  by  the  uncontrolled  applause  that  he  was 
but  exalted  by  the  assault. 

Without  preliminaries  he  strode  straight  to  the 
rostrum.  His  face  was  yellow  like  ivory.  Those 
close  to  him  marked  a  band  of  scar  on  his  brow 
which  was  crimsoned  by  his  emotion.  It  might  be- 
long to  one  who  for  many  years  had  worn  a  crown. 

"  My  friends,  between  you  and  me  there  can  be 
nothing  but  a  frank  understanding.  Has  The  Herald 
ever  fought  for  honesty,  manhood,  or  justice?  " 

"  No ! " 

"  When  was  The  Herald  the  supporter  of  the  work- 
ing man?  " 

"  Never ! " 

"  If  you  want  to  know  whose  cause  The  Herald 
champions,  look  at  its  subsidized  columns.  Every 
enemy  that  you  and  I  have  is  turning  his  gold  into 
the  office  of  that  paper. 

"  I  want  to  hear  your  word.  Am  I  your  friend  ? 
Am  I  a  thief  ?  Either  that  is  true  or  The  Herald 
lies.  Which  is  it  ?  Do  you  want  a  paper  in  your 
house  that  stabs  your  friend  ?  Will  you  support  the 
organ  of  the  Chinaman?  " 

Stryne's  words  were  scarcely  heard  above  the 
shouts,  "  Stop  The  Herald  !  "  "  Tear  up  The  Herald  !  " 

20 


THE  SAND-LOT 


"  Listen  to  me.  How  many  friends  have  I  here  ? 
How  many  want  to  read  lies  about  me  ?  How  many 
present  are  to  stop  The  Herald  to-morrow  ?  It  does 
credit  to  your  manhood  that  you  all  decline  to  aid 
our  foes." 

Three  thousand  names  were  taken  from  the  sub- 
scription list  of  that  journal  the  next  day  and  added 
to  The  Times.  It  was  the  first  definite  awakening 
of  the  public  to  Stryne's  power.  Then  came  the 
triumph  of  the  young  reporter  who  saw  his  paper 
accept  his  own  sentiment. 

Henceforth  there  was  a  struggle  between  the  two 
leading  dailies  to  see  which  could  have  the  greater 
portion  of  Stryne's  favor  and  yet  not  offend  sub- 
scribers. If  they  dared  not  openly  praise  him,  at 
least  all  his  speeches  were  fully  reported  and  he  was 
not  abused  for  some  time. 

Heretofore  the  classes  attacked  had  confidently 
expected  the  Chinese  agitation  to  die.  In  .six  weeks 
after  the  advent  of  Stryne,  however,  the  entire  net- 
like  far-reaching  detective  force  of  the  United  States 
was  called  into  service  to  learn  his  antecedents. 

Prominent  but  grammarless  citizens  who  met  him 
felt  that  he  was  a  reproof  to  them  in  dignity  and 
purity  of  English.  They  were  certain  that  his  man- 
ner and  speech  belonged  to  a  gentleman,  an  adven- 
turer, rather  than  a  laborer.  They  asserted  that 

21 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

within  two  weeks  Stryne  would  be  compelled  to 
leave  town. 

After  long  search  the  only  trace  of  his  history  to 
be  found  was  that  he  had  come  to  the  United  States 
in  a  sailing-vessel  from  Italy.  Already  he  had  told 
his  audiences  as  much.  Detectives  could  no  more 
bring  to  life  his  past  than  they  could  learn  the  route 
of  a  ship  by  looking  at  the  ocean. 

Working  Men's  Clubs  continued  to  spring  up. 
Laborers  assumed  the  arrogance  of  that  recent 
period  when  the  gold  fever  raged  and  blotted  the 
souls  of  men.  From  every  hall  and  building  of  suffi- 
cient size  capitalists  were  warned  by  discourse  and 
flags  that  "  The  Chinese  must  go ! "  Still  the  Mon- 
golians remained  and  sent  thousands  of  dollars  a 
week  to  the  Orient. 

Stryne  appointed  presidents  of  the  clubs  that  he 
created  and  these  men  acted  as  under  officers  in  the 
ranks.  So  thoroughly  the  great  captain,  he  was 
above  jealousy  of  his  lieutenants.  He  was  so  sure 
of  himself  that  he  could  demand  the  best  of  the  best 
men.  With  the  celerity  of  intuition  he  singled  out 
the  capable  man  and  planted  his  hand  on  his  shoulder 
with  the  touch  and  weight  of  destiny.  From  his 
corps  of  officers  went  out  most  of  the  men  who  have 
since  become  marked  representatives  of  socialism  in 
the  United  States. 

22 


THE  SAND-LOT 


The  Working  Men's  Clubs  were  for  the  general 
improvement  of  laborers.  Many  of  them  had  li- 
braries and  baths ;  some  added  gymnasiums.  With 
alarm  it  was  learned  that  these  large  rooms  were 
nothing  more  than  armories. 

Panic  paled  the  lips  of  the  population,  for  after 
weeks  of  secrecy  it  became  known  that  Stryne  had 
been  training  his  followers  in  warfare.  It  was  true 
that  the  agitator  had  five  thousand  armed  men  at  his 
call.  Rumor,  gray  and  yellow  with  fear,  doubled, 
trebled  the  number.  His  cry,  "  If  not  with  the  ballot, 
then  with  the  bullet, "  was  recalled. 

Bourgeois  mediocrity  sometimes  looked  at  its 
neighbors  and  wondered  suspiciously  if  they,  too, 
might  not  be  those  murderous,  lawless  monsters, 
Strynites.  Dreaming  young  men  and  emotional 
women  believed  not  so  much  in  his  principles  as  in 
him,  and  so  the  sober,  well-balanced  portion  of  the 
community  concluded  that  the  time  had  positively 
come  for  his  annihilation.  His  wild  theories  would 
then  die  disembodied. 

Stryne  soon  realized  that  the  "  lions  of  corruption  " 
returned  his  challenge  to  battle.  When  he  went  to 
Golden  Gate  Temple  he  found  it  closed.  The  Plaza 
Hall  was  not  to  be  had.  In  front  of  Kearny  Street 
Hall  a  mob  of  working  men  groaned  at  and  hissed 

the  owners  who  refused  to  allow  another  meeting  of 

23 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

Strynites.  Money  could  not  hire  an  assembly-room 
in  the  city.  All  had  been  rented  to  the  "  bandits  of 
Nob  Hill." 

A  large  force  of  police  was  detailed  to  quell  dis- 
turbances. Wherever  Stryne  went  his  disciples  fol- 
lowed and  the  Kearny  Street  cars  were  obliged  to 
cease  running.  It  was  suggested  that  an  entrance 
to  the  hall  be  forced.  No  sooner  were  the  words 
uttered  than  the  chief  brandished  his  arms  in  the  air 
and  shouted:  "Back,  men,  you  are  only  harming  our 
cause.  We  are  locked  out  of  the  halls  of  the  city 
by  our  enemies.  Could  I  have  demonstrated  to  you 
so  clearly  that  we  should  stand  together?  Thank 
God,  they  can  not  lock  us  out  of  the  pure  air  of 
heaven.  They  would  rob  us  of  that  if  it  were  possi- 
ble. March!  Let  us  assemble  on  the  sand-lot." 

Stryne  placed  himself  at  their  head  and  prevented 
them  from  storming  up  the  street  like  enraged  de- 
mons. The  leader  saved  the  thousands  from  them- 
selves by  keeping  them  back  with  his  arms  stretched 
to  their  full  extent.  This  signal  cooled  their 
thoughts.  The  fear  of  the  men  that  they  would  do 
Stryne  bodily  harm  restrained  them. 

Slowly,  sullenly,  they  went  down  Kearny  Street 
and  up  Market  until  they  reached  a  vacant  block  of 
sand  near  the  site  of  the  present  City  Hall.  The 

peninsula  of  San  Francisco  is  a  waste  of  sand  on 

24 


THE  SAND-LOT 


which  parched  shrubbery  sparsely  grows,  but  this 
one  square  of  sand  was  made  historic  by  Stryne  as 
"The  Sand-Lot." 

There  was  no  hall  large  enough  to  hold  all  his 
hearers,  and  the  sand-lot  contained  more  than  he 
hoped  to  be  able  to  assemble. 

Directly  the  men  reached  the  vacant  lot  they  ob- 
served there  was  no  rostrum  for  Stryne.  They  might 
have  gone  away  without  a  speech  but  they  were  in 
too  angry  a  mood.  Their  leader,  their  voice,  must 
first  thunder  wrath  and  defiance  to  calm  and  cool 
their  leaping,  burning  pulses. 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  platform  was  erected 
for  the  speaker.  In  the  dark  he  arose  before  the 
growing  multitude  and  spread  out  his  hands  to  silence 
the  shouts  of  his  admirers. 

"  We  are  not  in  Golden  Gate  Temple  as  we  had 
hoped,  but  we  are  in  God's  own  temple.  He  has 
not  locked  us  out.  He  is  not  on  the  side  of  the 
monopoly,  the  railroad  builders,  and  the  Chinamen. 
Our  new  hall  is  larger,  better  ventilated,  and  we 
have  the  cheapest  system  of  lighting  in  the  world. 
I  should  like  to  look  into  your  faces,  but  I  see  only 
their  dim  outline,  for  the  Man  who  lights  our  candles 
in  the  sky  is  busy  in  another  part  of  the  universe." 

This  was  no  sooner  said  than  behind  Stryne  blazed 
up  flames  which  illuminated  the  square,  the  sur- 

25 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

rounding  buildings,  disclosed  the  great,  gaping  mouth 
of  the  audience  and  its  devouring  eyes,  and  cast  a 
glow  upon  the  sky.  It  was  characteristic  of  the  way 
his  followers  anticipated  his  wishes. 

The  brush  crackled,  snapped,  and  clouds  of  fire 
swept  down  over  him  enveloping  him  until  his  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  the  flame : 

"MEN  AND  WOMEN:  We  ought  to  be  grateful 
that  the  scoundrels  sanctified  by  their  stolen  gold 
have  taken  our  shelter  from  us.  We  ought  on  our 
knees  to  thank  God  for  every  misfortune  that  ex- 
pands our  strength  and  unites  us  into  a  great  brother- 
hood. 

"Those  highwaymen  covering  themselves  with 
the  law's  protecting  mantle  are  laughing  in  their 
great  houses  because  we  are  forced  into  the  open  air. 
Laugh  on,  for  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  the  be- 
ginning. The  time  will  come  when  equality,  justice, 
and  liberty  shall  ascend  the  place  of  power  and  give 
you  bandits  new  dwellings  of  stone,  but  these  will 
belong  to  the  State. 

"  Friends,  let  me  tell  you  what  I  propose  doing. 
This  meeting  shall  be  dismissed,  but  to-morrow 
night  at  eight  o'clock  all  who  hate  the  tyranny  of 
consecrated  thieves  will  march  with  me,  and  we  will 
talk  face  to  face  with  them.  To-morrow  night  we 

will  invade  the  robbers'  den.     We  have  been  driven 

26 


THE  SAND-LOT 


from  our  home.  They  shall  learn  how  we  talk,  what 
we  believe,  what  we  are.  For  the  first  time  they 
will  see  what  men  are  like.  To-morrow  night  let  us 
meet  on  Nob  Hill." 

Stryne's  final  sentence  lifted  them  into  the  air  and 
held  them  shouting,  howling  their  enthusiasm  for 
him  to  the  skies.  It  was  the  first  time  that  San 
Francisco  had  seen  her  people  untempered  by  re- 
sponsibility or  rank,  inflamed  by  injustice,  poverty, 
hunger,  and  the  great  passion  for  the  personality  of 
Stryne. 


27 


Chapter  III 

NOB  HILL 

on  the  highest,  most  arrogant 
hill  of  San  Francisco  are  grim,  gloomy 
residences  that  frown  at  the  town  lying 
below.  Few  of  them  appear  to  have  been  erected  for 
private  habitation.  One  might  fancy  that  there  was 
a  contest  among  wealthy  hypochondriacs  to  see  who 
could  build  for  himself  the  largest  prison.  Some 
day  these  houses  will  be  used  as  museums. 

At  first  in  jest  and  then  seriously  this  portion  of 
the  town  was  known  as  Nob  Hill.  It  was  Nob  Hill 
which  the  laboring  classes  firmly  believed  caused 
their  poverty.  Consequently  it  was  against  Nob 
Hill  that  their  hatred  was  directed. 

The  discontented  despised  the  dwellers  on  the 
height  for  their  exclusive  position.  It  seemed  to 
say  to  the  lowly:  "You  must  climb  here  on  your 
hands  and  knees,  for  you  have  no  carriages." 

The  houses  of  Nob  Hill,  joyless  as  money-vaults 
or  tombs,  were  obnoxious  because  of  their  ostentation. 

Millionaires  who  modestly  inhabited  other  quarters 

28 


NOB  HILL 


gave  little  offense.  To  dwell  on  Nob  Hill  was  to  be 
set  up  as  a  target  for  socialism. 

The  succeeding  day  after  Stryne's  announcement 
that  the  next  meeting  would  be  held  on  the  forbidden 
spot,  few  thought  connectedly  for  any  length  of  time. 
The  air  was  hot  and  quivering,  giving  warning  of 
an  earthquake.  It  was  deplored  that  the  capitalists 
had  been  so  aggressive. 

Phlegmatic,  well-regulated  people  became  excited. 
The  very  young  felt  that  at  last  history  was  about 
to  be  made.  No  one  did  anything  to  prevent  the 
meeting.  Everybody  stopped  after  giving  his  opin- 
ion. 

The  millionaires  were  terror-stricken.  Beldon, 
the  railroad  builder,  urged  his  friends  to  flee  with 
him  to  Mexico.  He  felt  that  they  all  were  to  be 
hanged.  In  Southern  California  he  died  from  the 
shock  which  the  fright  gave  his  enfeebled  constitu- 
tion. 

Walsingham,  Pickens,  and  Hackett,  younger  and 
more  vigorous,  remained.  They  declared  in  their 
offices  and  clubs  that  they  refused  to  move  a  jot  for 
that  fellow  Stryne  and  his  tramps.  In  reality  their 
houses  were  secretly  converted  into  arsenals.  Their 
bravery  was  their  confidence  in  a  hundred  guns 
which  were  to  be  trained  upon  Strynites  should  they 

attempt  to  destroy  property  or  life.     Six  score  special 

29 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

policemen  engaged  for  this  occasion  added  to  their 
feeling  of  security. 

Col.  Knox  Peyton,  the  mining  magnate,  was  the 
only  resident  of  Nob  Hill  who  declined  to  flee,  pur- 
chase guns,  or  ask  assistance  of  the  law.  His 
brownstone  house  was  the  sole  dwelling  on  the  hill 
not  an  offense  against  beauty  and  taste. 

Peyton  was  a  Southerner  past  sixty,  a  widower 
with  one  daughter,  Theodosia.  In  spite  of  their 
gentle  breeding  they  sometimes  smiled  at  the  ex- 
centricities  of  manner,  speech,  and  conduct  of  their 
neighbors.  Instead  of  making  their  home  a  fortress, 
the  Peytons  even  refused  to  recall  their  dinner  in- 
vitations for  the  evening  set  for  the  meeting  of  the 
Strynites. 

It  was  in  February  and  the  atmosphere  was  so  hot 
and  thick  that  those  who  could  afford  it  drove  to  the 
beach  and  cliff.  The  jackals  of  excitement  and 
disaster,  altho  equally  indifferent  to  the  cause  of 
Nob  Hill  or  the  Strynites,  had  a  hurried,  early  din- 
ner and  then  crept  up  the  height  to  see  what  was  go- 
ing to  happen.  It  was  almost  as  exciting  as  watch- 
ing the  first  night  of  the  opera  from  the  side- 
walk. 

All  the  houses  except  the  Peytons'  in  this  portion 
of  California  Street  were  darkened.  The  occupants 
huddled  behind  the  curtains,  viewing  with  alarm  the 

3° 


NOB  HILL 


newcomers  who  were  awaiting  Stryne  and  his  fol- 
lowers. 

The  principals  were  late  and  the  audience  became 
impatient.  Some  of  the  people  departed  disgusted 
and  sneering,  "  Of  course  he  won't  dare  come." 

"  I  knew  that  all  the  time.     He  won't  make  good." 

Some  one  yelled,  "He  has  sold  out."  Directly 
there  were  a  buzz  and  murmurs  of  "  Blackmail ! " 
"Job."  "No  good"  "I  told  you  so." 

Through  the  breathless  expectant  air  came  a  roar 
like  that  of  a  brick  building  during  an  earthquake 
when  each  separate  stone  stirs  and  the  whole  struc- 
ture threatens  to  topple  to  the  ground.  Nearer  and 
louder  came  the  sound  until  it  was  like  the  tramping 
of  feet.  It  was  the  march  of  men,  and  the  brains 
and  eyes  of  those  waiting  flashed  to  one  another  the 
needless  news :  the  Strynites  were  coming. 

Women  crawled  away  from  the  windows,  and, 
shivering,  looked  at  each  other  in  silence.  Children 
screamed  in  the  nurseries.  Wives  fell  weeping  into 
their  husbands'  arms.  The  guards,  carrying  their 
Winchester  rifles,  paced  the  halls  and  chambers  of 
the  huge  mansions. 

At  first  there  were  but  a  few  of  the  working  men, 
the  stragglers  of  the  advance.  Then  came  the  mass, 
and  to  one  looking  down  California  Street  it  seemed 
that  an  endless  black  serpent  uncoiled  its  form  straight 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

for  the  purpose  of  striking  an  enemy  who  had  thrown 
a  rock  on  its  head. 

The  body  of  men  broke  as  they  came  up  the  hill. 
Presently  every  yard  and  street  was  blackened  by  the 
presence  of  the  Strynites.  They  sat  on  the  porches 
of  the  great  houses  and  smoked  as  if  they  had  come 
into  their  own.  Some  spat  upon  the  veranda  floors. 

At  last  Stryne  and  his  staff  of  assistants  appeared 
through  an  opening  which  was  involuntarily  made 
for  him. 

It  was  a  marked  occurrence  for  these  weaker  men 
and  they  were  incompetent  and  nervous.  Had  their 
leader  fallen  dead,  they  would  have  fled.  Stryne,  as 
usual,  was  wrapped  in  his  heavy  blue  cloak.  All  bent 
in  deference  as  he  talked  with  them.  Strangely 
enough  he  was  relating  with  animation  his  emotions 
during  a  shipwreck.  They  pretended  to  listen  but 
their  thoughts  fell  upon  the  events  which  were  to 
come.  They  felt  they  had  been  plunged  into  con- 
ditions too  momentous  for  them. 

In  the  darkened  street  the  Peyton  house  flared  in- 
solent defiance  at  Stryne  and  his  followers.  Strains 
of  music  from  the  orchestra  reached  the  ears  of  the 
assembly.  Stryne  ceased  talking,  stopped,  regarded 
the  outlook,  then  opened  the  heavy  gate  and  went 
inside. 

When  he  stood  before  them  on  the  property  of  the 
32 


NOB  HILL 


only  aristocrat  among  all  the  magnates  of  Nob  Hill 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  people  applauded. 
They  partook  of  his  audacity  and  leaped,  shouting : 
"  The  Chinese  must  go !  "  "  If  not  by  the  ballot  then 
the  bullet ! "  As  he  entered  the  enemy's  territory 
their  enthusiasm  became  unconfined.  They  felt  that 
their  leader  had  elevated  them. 

These  maddened  cries  sent  the  blood  from  the 
cheeks  and  stopped  the  throbbing  hearts  of  the  men 
and  women  in  the  black  towering  houses.  From  the 
Peytons*  home  came  the  music  of  a  waltz. 

Stryne  began  to  speak  when  McCarthy,  a  carpenter, 
stepped  from  the  crowd  and  said,  "There  ain't  no 
bonfire  to  night,  Mr.  Stryne.  We  haven't  got  no 
wood.  In  the  next  block  is  some  lumber  that  Pickens 
is  using  for  his  new  house.  Shall  we  take  it  ?  " 

"  We  must  have  a  fire,  McCarthy,  but  we  ought 
not  to  steal  from  Pickens.  He  is  honest,  is  he  not? 
He  never  stole  lumber.  Pickens  took  a  railroad. " 

"  Shall  we  take  the  wood,  Mr.  Stryne  ?  "  insisted 
the  carpenter. 

"  McCarthy,  we  must  have  a  fire/' 

These  words  were  no  sooner  uttered  than  the  men 
fetched  the  lumber  and  the  corner  of  the  Peytons' 
lawn,  where  Stryne  took  his  station  as  speaker,  was 
soon  aglare.  There  was  not  a  break  in  the  music 
within.  The  women  of  the  Walsinghams  and  Hack- 
3  33 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

etts  begged  their  kinsmen  to  be  allowed  to  depart 
before  a  general  conflagration  commenced. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  our  guards  ?  It  does  us  no 
good  if  a  few  beggars  are  murdered  after  we  are  all 
roasted  into  crisps.  Let  us  go  anywhere  and  not 
stay  in  these  houses  any  longer,"  they  wailed. 

By  way  of  beginning  his  speech  Stryne  exclaimed, 
a  smile  of  mockery  rendering  his  countenance  un- 
pleasant :  "  Men  and  women :  Last  night  we  were 
locked  out.  That  is  why  we  are  here.  I  approve  of 
our  meeting  on  this  spot.  It  makes  this  highway- 
man Peyton,  who  is  dancing  the  dance  of  death  in 
his  mansion,  realize  that  the  working  men  of  San 
Francisco  are  a  living  body  with  blood  as  red  and 
thick  as  his.  Pickens  and  Walsingham  skulking  in 
the  darkness  know  we  are  here  to  tell  them  that  they 
must  obey  the  laws  of  their  country.  It  is  not  so 
many  years  ago  that  they  were  working  men  like  our- 
selves. Let  us  prick  their  memory.  I  know  no 
better  way  than  to  show  them  ten  thousand  of  us 
who  stand  together  and  are  ready  to  sacrifice  our 
bodies  for  justice  if  justice  make  that  demand." 

Stryne  continued  his  speech  for  half  an  hour,  threw 
off  his  cape,  and  cast  aside  his  coat.  Gradually  he 
moved  up  the  stone  walk  leading  to  the  house,  forced 
back  by  the  people  who  surged  about  him.  At  last 

he  was  on  the  broad,  granite  steps  and  the  mob  broke 

34 


NOB  HILL 


into  cheers.  The  music  played  on.  Only  the  Pey- 
tons  and  Stryne  seemed  unconscious  of  the  fact  that 
he  had  made  a  stage  of  the  Peyton  porch.  Expect- 
ancy had  reached  a  terrible  point. 

The  socialist's  voice  was  especially  adapted  to 
the  oratory  of  open  spaces,  and  he  strung  the 
great  irregular  throng  to  whichever  chord  he 
chose. 

By  way  of  closing  his  speech  and  making  a  fare- 
well pleasantry  he  said,  "  My  friends,  I  have  withheld 
from  you  one  reason  why  I  asked  you  all  to  assemble 
here  to-night.  The  working  men  have  no  club  in 
this  ward.  We  shall  organize  one  this  evening.  I 
appoint  as  president  Knox  Peyton,  president  of  the 
Central  Pacific ;  vice-president,  Thomas  Walsingham, 
owner  of  the  El  Dorado ;  secretary,  John  Pickens, 
who  for  twenty  years  has  had  a  monopoly  of  the 
brandy  sold  in  the  State.  What  shall  we  do  for  a 
treasurer?  Is  there  an  honest  man  in  this  ward? 
To  be  sure,  there  is  McCarthy,  the  carpenter.  For 
treasurer,  Michael  McCarthy." 

Rare  badinage  is  almost  as  effective  as  wit. 
Stryne  was  no  exception  among  powerful  men.  Peo- 
ple laughed  immoderately  at  his  jokes.  This  one 
especially  delighted  them. 

They  were  howling  their  loud  approval  when  the 
music  within  the  Pey tons'  house  ceased.  The  heavy 

35 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

door  was  swayed  open  by  a  butler  and  in  the  entrance 
stood  a  woman  about  twenty-one. 

The  light  fell  full  upon  her  and  showed  her  hair, 
gold,  like  that  of  childhood,  rolling  back  from  her 
brow  in  a  great  wave,  and  falling  in  curls  which 
sheathed  her  bare,  white  shoulders.  She  stood  with 
her  long  train  thrown  over  her  right  arm,  quite 
calmly  looking  at  the  fire,  the  thousands  of  strange 
faces,  and  Stryne.  Her  tall,  lithe,  full,  young  form 
was  robed  in  a  princesse  gown  of  heavy  white  silk, 
untrimmed  but  for  bands  of  lace.  The  young  wo- 
man's chin  was  held  high,  and  her  red,  fruitlike  lips 
curved  into  a  smile.  Her  blue  eyes  were  full  like 
her  cheeks  and  her  neck. 

Often  the  mob  had  watched  her  in  her  carriage,  or 
on  her  horse,  or  walking  with  her  father,  Colonel  Pey- 
ton, a  tall,  white-haired,  erect  man,  with  a  flowing 
mustache  and  closely  cropped  side-whiskers.  They 
had  never  seen  her  so  resplendent,  and  there  was  a 
hush.  She  more  than  any  other  woman  in  the  city 
was  the  daughter  of  San  Francisco,  Theodosia  Pey- 
ton. As  a  child  she  had  been  known  for  her  beauty 
and  gentle  nature.  Many  had  watched  her  as  she  rode 
her  first  pony.  Her  traps  were  a  common  topic  of 
conversation.  There  were  few  tradesmen,  dressma- 
kers, or  servants  in  the  city  who  did  not  feel  an  affec- 
tion for  her,  or  had  not  been  touched  by  the  charm 

36 


NOB  HILL 


of  her  cordiality.  She  never  forgot  a  face  and  she 
was  known  to  all  as  Theodosia.  The  highly  and 
lowly  placed  read  every  line  that  the  newspapers  pub- 
lished about  her  frocks,  entertainments,  accomplish- 
ments, and  rumored  engagements.  She  often  said 
that  she  should  be  obliged  to  be  married  in  the  park, 
or  on  the  ocean  beach,  for  no  church  could  contain 
all  the  people  who  would  expect  to  be  invited  to  her 
wedding. 

Stryne  looked  at  her,  waiting  for  her  to  speak. 
Evidently  she  was  not  yet  ready.  The  agitator 
hastily  covered  his  shoulders  with  his  heavy  cape,  an 
apology  for  being  coatless.  When  he  did  this  he 
drew  himself  up  like  a  military  man.  There  was 
something  both  in  his  manner  and  act  which  vexed 
his  followers. 

For  a  moment  he  was  far  away  from  them,  living 
in  another  sphere,  Theodosia  Peyton's  world.  They 
felt  that  he  was.  merely  a  gentleman  pretending  to  be 
a  working  man.  Moreover,  he  had  removed  his  coat 
intentionally  in  the  presence  of  their  womenkind.  It 
was  not  a  little  galling  that  he  should  don  it  for  the 
daughter  of  their  enemy,  Colonel  Peyton,  who  had 
shares  in  all  the  big  corporations  of  the  Pacific  coast. 

Stryne  dared  not  leave  the  porch,  dared  not  beat  a 
retreat,  vanquished  by  a  handsome  woman  who  merely 

looked  at  him.     The  eyes  of  ten  thousand  people 

37 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

were  upon  him  as  he  bowed  to  Theodosia  courteously 
and  with  dignity.  He  had  expected  to  be  stoned  or 
shot,  but  this  girl  was  an  unlooked-for  missile.  He 
understood  why  the  music  had  been  uninterrupted. 
The  house  was  garrisoned  by  the  woman  before  him. 

The  socialist's  interrupted  vehemence  had  brought 
the  glow  to  his  cheeks  and  eyes.  His  wiry,  dark  hair 
was  disordered.  Stryne's  face  was  aflame  with  the 
passion  of  his  eloquence.  In  spite  of  the  irregularity 
of  his  massive  features,  wrapped  in  his  great  cloak 
at  that  moment  he  looked  like  a  handsome  young 
army  officer  ardent  with  the  fury  of  battle. 

During  the  silence  Stryne  dropped  his  eyes  rather 
than  stare  at  the  strange  woman.  In  so  doing  they 
fell  upon  a  small  black  patch  on  Theodosia's  collar 
bone,  unnecessarily  calling  attention  to  the  fairness 
of  her  shoulders.  Not  twenty  seconds  passed  thus, 
but  they  dragged  heavily  to  the  agitator.  The  pulses 
of  his  temples  and  wrists  throbbed  with  thuds.  If 
he  was  to  be  held  in  that  position  much  longer  he 
felt  that  even  the  most  fervid  Strynite  would  hoot 
at  him. 

Finally  Theodosia  inclined  her  head  graciously,  a 
trifle  to  one  side,  without  bending  her  neck.  Her 
eyes  were  quizzical  and  triumphant. 

Then  she  said,  "  I  am  speaking  to  Mr.  Stryne,  I 
believe?" 

38 


NOB  HILL 


Stryne  saluted  again  with  the  deference  which  a 
European  social  training  gives. 

"  Mr.  Stryne,  I  am  Miss  Peyton ;  and  I  wish  to 
thank  you  for  doing  my  father  the  honor  to  appoint 
him  the  president  of  your  club,  altho  he  would  pre- 
fer to  be  treasurer." 

The  socialist  reddened. 

"  Oh,  your  voice  is  very  penetrating,  Mr.  Stryne. 
We  could  hear  quite  distinctly.  I  am  positive  you 
are  mistaken.  You  really  do  not  think  Colonel  Pey- 
ton would  embezzle  the  funds  of  the  Working  Men's 
Club  ?  Since  you  made  my  father  president  of  your 
club  you  will  surely  come  in  to  have  coffee  with  one 
of  your  officers.  We  are  just  finishing  dinner.  Bring 
any  of  your  friends  you  choose.  I  am  sorry  our 
house  is  too  small  to  ask  them  all,  but  you  have  so 
many  friends." 

Stryne  bowed  again  and  answered :  "  You  are  most 
kind,  madam.  I  thank  you,  but  I  have  a  previous 
engagement  with  those  friends." 

"  Colonel  Peyton  will  be  so  sorry.  Another  time, 
perhaps.  Any  time,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"Again,  madam,  you  are  most  gracious,  but  I 
have  an  engagement  for  life  with  my  friends." 

The  girl  smiled  automatically,  bowed  to  Stryne, 
and  was  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the  great  hall,  as  the 
doors  closed  upon  his  first  glimpse  of  her  home. 

39 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Her  voice  was  so  low  and  the  words  were  so  softly 
spoken  that  none  but  Stryne  had  heard  what  she  said. 
Directly  that  Miss  Peyton  disappeared  from  view 
there  was  a  clamor  of  query,  "  Why  did  she  come?  " 
"  Did  she  order  us  away  ?  "  they  laughed.  "  What 
did  she  say?" 

"  My  friends,  I  was  insulted  by  the  offer  of  a 
bribe." 

Walsingham,  Pickens,  or  Belden  would  have  offered 
him  railway  shares  and  he  would  have  gladly  refused 
them.  They  were  materialists  of  common  fiber. 
Peyton  sent  him  youth,  white  shoulders,  bare  arms, 
laughing  eyes,  red  lips,  and  curls  of  gold,  dimpled 
hands,  bearing  a  cup  of  coffee.  It  was  the  bribe  of  a 
man  who  had  used  only  his  brain.  It  was  the  bribe 
of  an  aristocrat.  It  was  the  bribe  of  a  man  who 
understood  men. 


40 


Chapter  IV 
THE  PRINCE 

:EODOSIA  PEYTON  was  welcomed  in 
the  drawing-room  like  a  heroine  who  had 
saved  a  besieged  city.  Within  fifteen 
minutes  the  crowd  dispersed,  and  the  Beldens,  Wal- 
singhams,  and  Pickenses,  looking  at  their  guns  and 
police,  felt  slightly  ashamed.  There  were  a  dozen 
guests  at  Colonel  Peyton's  house  and  the  women 
embraced  Theodosia  hysterically.  The  old  men 
patted  her  cheeks.  Her  father  pressed  his  lips  to 
her  hair. 

Lieutenant  Armstrong,  of  the  navy,  told  her  she 
was  a  splendid  officer,  and  that  he  was  glad  to  see 
her  come  back  from  death  smiling. 

Percy  Oglethorpe,  a  blond  young  Englishman, 
gave  her  both  his  hands  and  said :  "  By  Jove,  Miss 
Peyton,  you  make  us  men  feel  like  curs  and  cowards. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  us  your  plan  of  breaking  up 
the  meeting  ?  We  should  all  have  been  at  your  ser- 
vice. The  States  are  a  great  development  after  all. 
The  American  women  are  wonderful — regular  Joans 

of  Arc.     I'll  write  that  home  to  England." 

41 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Pardon,  Signer  Oglethorpe,  but  you  would  say, 
would  you  not,  that  the  American  woman,  Signorina 
Peyton,  is  the  Joan  of  Arc  ?  "  slowly  corrected  Prince 
Alessandro  Ruspoli,  an  Italian  nobleman,  who  was 
making  a  tour  of  the  world  and  staying  in  San  Fran- 
cisco for  the  time. 

Then  the  Prince  stepped  toward  Theodosia,  and 
looking  steadily  into  her  eyes  from  the  depth  of  his 
own  gaze,  took  her  hand  and  said,  "  My  compliments, 
Signorina.  You  are  most  unkind  to  take  from  me 
the  privilege  of  being  your  escort." 

"  Oh,  if  you  had  gone  it  would  have  spoiled  all.  I 
knew  I  must  be  alone,"  she  answered. 

He  bent  over  her  hand  until  about  to  touch  it  with 
his  lips,  and  she  turned  quickly  to  leave  him.  The 
Italian,  with  one  step,  was  in  front  of  her,  and  he 
said  softly  in  his  own  language,  "  Signorina,  you  will 
not  accept  the  courtesy  which,  in  my  own  country, 
I  might  bestow  upon  any  lady  of  my  acquaintance." 

Ruspoli  was  much  taller  than  Theodosia,  erect  but 
slight  in  form.  His  shoulders  were  broad  and  his 
frame  was  lean.  The  Prince's  nose  and  chin  were 
clearly  and  well  outlined.  He  was  so  dark  that  he 
might  have  been  a  Turk,  and  his  black  eyes  made  one 
think  they  had  burnt  until  they  were  dead.  His  hair 
was  glossy,  jetty,  and  brushed  straight  back  from  his 

low  brow.     All  the  blood  in  his  face  was  concentra- 

42 


THE  PRINCE 


ted  in  his  firm  full  lips,  which  had  the  appearance  of 
being  tinted  red.  They  parted  as  he  awaited  an 
answer  from  Theodosia. 

"I  am  American,  Prince,  and  I  decline  Italian 
courtesies,"  laughed  Theodosia,  endeavoring  to  pass 
him. 

Ruspoli's  eyes  were  so  serious  that  he  almost 
frowned.  His  arms  were  folded  and  he  asked, 
"  Why,  Signorina,  did  you  refuse  such  a  trifle  ?  " 

Miss  Peyton  replied  in  Italian,  "That  is  very 
simple — because  you  desired  it." 

"  Why  did  I  desire  it,  Signorina  ?  "  insisted  Rus- 
poli,  showing  his  white  teeth  and  staring  into  her 
blue  eyes  until  her  cheeks  grew  pink. 

"Oh,  I  decline  to  be  questioned,  Prince,"  said 
Theodosia,  pouting  her  lips,  shrugging  her  shoulders, 
and  tossing  her  curls. 

The  Italian  barricaded  the  way,  and  said  rapidly 
in  one  breath,  "I  will  tell  you,  Signorina." 

"I  don't  hear,  Prince;  I  refuse  to  hear.  I  am 
deaf." 

Theodosia  endeavored  to  flee. 

"  You  shall  hear,  Signorina ;  I  will  tell  you  what 
you  know  very  well.  You  refused  because  I  love 
you,  Signorina.  For  that  reason  I  am  treated  as  an 
enemy." 

Theodosia  straightened  herself  up  with  grave  dig- 
43 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

nity,  altho  there  was  a  smile  in  her  eyes.  Ruspoli 
listened  tragically  and  gloomily,  his  expression  intent 
and  eager. 

"  Now,  Prince,  I  see  it.  You  are  going  to  spoil 
everything.  I  thought  we  were  to  be  such  good 
friends.  Don't  be  dull.  I  shall  banish  you  to  Italy 
if  you  are." 

At  that  instant  Percy  Oglethorpe  joined  Theo- 
dosia  and  said :  "  Talk  about  smokeless  powder,  Miss 
Peyton,  it's  all  nonsense.  I  shall  recommend  you 
to  the  War  Department.  A  rebellion  put  down  with 
a  smile.  Ruspoli,  you  are  thinking  poetry.  I  see 
it.  Write  a  sonnet  about  Miss  Peyton,  who  put 
down  a  rebellion  with  a  smile." 

"  The  Prince  write  a  poem,  Mr.  Oglethorpe  ?  Oh, 
he  doesn't  live  up  to  his  eyes.  He  does  nothing  but 
talk.  He  is  a  Strynite,"  laughed  Theodosia. 

Ruspoli  endeavored  to  be  civil,  but  he  found  it  too 
difficult  when  interrupted  in  a  tender  declaration  by 
a  frivolous,  jesting  Englishman.  He  merely  bit  the 
inside  of  his  upper  lip  with  his  strong,  white  teeth. 

The  guests  were  assembled  in  a  long,  Oriental 
drawing-room,  and  some  of  the  ladies  approached  the 
group.  One  was  Adele  Whiting,  a  tall,  well-groomed 
girl,  somewhere  in  the  twenties — none  but  Adele 
knew  just  where. 

Like  all  fashionable  women  of  the  period,  Miss 
44 


THE  PRINCE 


Whiting  wore  her  hair  high  on  her  head  and  in  long 
curls  at  the  back,  but  her  ringlets  were  false,  stiff, 
and  dark,  while  Theodosia  Peyton's  were  her  own, 
soft  and  thick. 

Adele  was  a  nondescript,  eyebrowless  young  wo- 
man, indefinite  in  color  and  outline.  She  was  of 
good  stature  and,  while  at  a  distance  she  gave  the 
impression  of  being  handsome,  as  she  approached  her 
charm  vanished.  Without  marked  imperfections  she 
was  singularly  devoid  of  any  pretty  feature.  Miss 
Whiting  was  impoverished,  but  of  a  good  New  York 
family.  She  had  sat  through  more  dinners  without 
giving  any  herself  than  any  person  of  her  years  in  the 
city.  Wherever  the  sun  was  shining  its  brightest  and 
best  Adele  could  be  found.  There  was  no  better  index 
of  one's  social  favor  than  the  frequency  or  rarity  of 
her  visits. 

She  knew  every  rock  and  shoal  of  society  and  she 
was  never  caught  in  the  quicksand.  Adele  called 
herself  Theodosia's  chum.  She  held  the  same  posi- 
tion to  several  other  prominent  and  wealthy  women. 
It  meant  that  she  was  willing  to  be  anything  from  a 
messenger  to  a  maid.  In  the  kindest  way  she  ac- 
cepted invitations  at  the  last  moment  when  guests 
had  disappointed  and  there  was  a  vacant  place  at 
dinner — that  is,  if  you  were  worth  while.  Her 
recompense  was  that  she  was  considered  popular. 

45 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

In  those  days  the  chaperon  was  scarcely  known  in 
America,  and  San  Francisco  thought  her  merely  the 
exquisite  humor  of  the  comic  New  York  weeklies. 
The  San  Francisco  maiden,  who  at  present  is  the 
most  chaperoned  girl  in  the  United  States,  during 
the  seventies  went  everywhere  alone  with  the  utmost 
freedom.  But  Theodosia  found  Adele  convenient 
when  she  wanted  to  walk  or  drive  with  Ruspoli,  or 
any  one  of  half  a  dozen  other  dangerous  men  she 
knew.  It  was  like  being  with  a  well-trained  servant 
— alone — and  yet  Ruspoli  was  held  in  check.  In 
reality  Theodosia  had  no  chum  but  her  father. 
When  she  was  a  small  girl  he  led  her  by  the  hand, 
but  as  she  grew  she  led  Colonel  Peyton. 

Adele  joined  the  group  and  said :  "  Theo  darling, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I  am  sure  we  should  all  be 
in  ashes.  I  don't  want  to  be  cremated  even  after  I 
am  dead.  Weren't  you  dreadfully  frightened  ?  Dear 
me,  I'm  quite  giddy  at  the  thought  of  it.  You  are 
such  a  brave  girl  I  must  kiss  you  again." 

Sally  Livingston  was  making  two  or  three  people 
laugh  by  saying :  "  Ten  thousand  men  frighten  Theo- 
dosia Peyton?  Indeed  no.  She  is  perfectly  happy. 
It  is  the  first  time  she  ever  had  men  enough  looking 
at  her  at  once." 

Sally  was  thin,  gray-complexioned,  wore  her  hair 

drawn  tightly  from  her  forehead,  and  was  inclined  to 

46 


THE  PRINCE 


protuberance  of  chin.  She  was  liked  for  the  curious 
reason  that  she  always  told  the  truth  if  it  was  dis- 
agreeable. Each  of  her  friends  fancied  that  she  was 
the  one  elected  to  escape  Sally's  tongue. 

Jessie  Traver  protested :  "  Sally,  I  have  a  stand- 
ing rule  not  to  make  nasty  remarks  until  I  get  home. 
I  have  heard  you  say  the  most  horrid  things  while 
dinner  was  going  on — Theo,  dear,  you  are  a  darling. 
I  do  admire  your  courage.  But  weren't  you  a  bit 
frightened?" 

"  Of  course  not,  Jessie,  I  rather  liked  it." 

"  Liked  it,  Miss  Peyton  ?  "  said  Oglethorpe. 

"  Liked  it,  Theodosia  ?  "  exclaimed  Colonel  Peyton. 

"  Really !  "  remarked  Lieutenant  Armstrong. 

"  Liked  it,  Theo?  "  Adele  ejaculated. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  should  enjoy  that  sort  of  thing 
myself." 

"  Theodosia,  you  are  posing,"  said  Sally  Living- 
ston. 

"  Miss  Peyton,  you  are  chaffing  us,"  declared  Ogle- 
thorpe. 

"  May  I  ask,  Signorina,  what  you  mean  by  '  that 
sort  of  thing?  '  "  requested  the  Prince. 

"Why,  I  should  like  to  be  Stryne,"  answered 
Theodosia. 

"I  understand,  Signorina,  that  nearly  everything 
in  America  is  a  joke.  This  also  is  a  pleasantry?  " 

47 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

"  Of  course  not.  I  should  like  to  be  Stryne,  to  be 
able  to  have  thousands  of  men  willing  to  die  for  me. " 

"  Thousands  of  men  are  willing  to  die  for  you, 
Miss  Peyton." 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  say  that,  Percy  Oglethorpe ; 
I  never  knew  you  to  fail  to  make  the  obvious  conven- 
tional compliment — as  I  was  saying,  I  should  like  to 
be  Mr.  Stryne  and  do  things." 

"Is  Mr.  Stryne  so  very  handsome,  Theodosia?" 
asked  Sally  Livingston. 

"  It's  just  what  I  wanted  to  know,"  remarked 
Lieutenant  Armstrong. 

"  Not  a  pretty  or  beautiful  man,  but  strong  and 
handsome,"  said  Miss  Peyton  slowly.  Then,  looking 
quickly  at  the  Italian,  she  added,  "  And  I  quite  like 
him." 

When  her  eyes  met  those  of  her  father  they  were 
smiling.  Colonel  Peyton  continued  his  conversation 
with  the  older  members  of  the  group.  Ruspoli 
walked  toward  her  and  Basked :  "  Signorina,  does  the 
gentleman's  beautiful  face  or  do  the  crimes  he  insti- 
gates please  you  ?  It  is  always  interesting  to  learn 
the  tastes  of  ladies  in  strange  lands." 

"Do  you  know  that  Mr.  Stryne  causes  crime, 
Prince?  "  asked  Miss  Peyton  coldly. 

"  I  was  speaking  of  his  class,"  said  Ruspoli,  as  the 

conversation  went  on  in  his  own  language. 

48 


(   UNIVERGJTY 


THE  PRINCE 




"And  I  was  talking  of  Mr.  Stryne." 

"  I  feel  that  I  know  something  of  these  men,  Sig- 
norina.  I  regret  to  say  that  my  passionate,  unreason- 
ing Italy  is  the  mother  of  most  of  them.  My  dear 
cousin,  the  King,  has  just  escaped  death  at  the  hands 
of  your  hero's  friends.  A  socialist  can  not  be  sepa- 
rated from  his  class,  and  so  I  know  Signor  Stryne. " 

"  Mr.  Stryne  stands  quite  alone,  Prince,"  answered 
Theodosia,  crossing  her  hands  behind  her  and  look- 
ing up  at  him  smiling.  She  was  talking  merely  for 
the  sake  of  having  the  last  word,  and  his  harshness 
surprised  and  amused  her.  Since  he  had  told  her  a 
few  minutes  before  that  he  loved  her,  Theodosia  was 
seized  with  an  impish  desire  to  tease  Ruspoli  who 
previously  had  been  gentle  unto  indolence. 

The  Prince  bowed  and  replied :  "  Signorina,  we 
heard  Signor  Stryne  this  evening  saying,  'If  not  the 
ballot,  then  the  bullet.'  Oh,  I  know  his  kind! 
None  of  them  hesitates  about  crime  if  he  can  ad- 
vance his  cause  by  it.  Tell  me,  what  must  I  do  ? 
Shall  I,  too,  be  a  murderer  to  inspire  your  enthusi- 
asm, Signorina  ?  If  that  is  necessary,  I  have  already 
chosen  the  man  to  kill." 

The  Prince  was  sneering  and  his  lips  were  trem- 
bling. He  was  looking  unpleasantly  at  Theodosia. 
His  anger  had  caused  her  to  forget  to  dissect  his 

emotions. 

4  49 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

Theodosia  asked :  "  So  you  would  like  to  know  the 
sort  of  a  man  who  appeals  to  my  enthusiasm  ?  He 
is  not  a  parasite.  He  is  not  an  idler.  He  is  not  a 
barnacle.  He  is  not  a  pretty  man." 

Ruspoli's  countenance  grew  pale  and  his  eyes 
darkened. 

"I've  told  you  what  he  can  not  be.  Now  I  shall 
tell  you  what  he  is:  charming,  strong,  able,  intel- 
lectual, and  something  of  a  hero/' 

The  Prince  laughed  aloud,  "  Dio  mio  !  Is  Stryne 
a  hero?" 

"  Experience  has  taught  me  that  you  can  not  ex- 
pect a  parasite  to  appreciate  a  man.  I  as  well  as  you, 
Prince,  belong  to  the  lazy  class.  My  kin  are  from 
the  South.  We  were  idlers  in  England  two  centuries 
ago,  and  we  came  to  the  colonies  to  make  sure  that 
none  of  our  descendants  should  be  obliged  to  work. 
An  affair  called  the  Civil  War  spoiled  our  plans. 
Nevertheless  by  heredity  I  am  just  as  lazy  as  you 
are.  Yet  I  can  look  at  all  views  of  the  question. 
There  is  more  right  than  wrong  on  Stryne's  side. 
Chinamen  will  ruin  laborers  and  spoil  the  race 
eventually.  They  ought  not  to  be  here,  for  a  nation 
J3  no  stronger  than  its  poorest  classes.  We  are  all 
bandits.  He  is  working  for  the  good  of  the  poor 
and  is  a  hero.  I  believe  everything  he  says.  I'm 
going  to  send  him  my  ruby  rings  and  tell  him  to  give 

50 


THE  PRINCE 


them  to  the  poor.  Think  of  it !  Ten  thousand  men 
ready  to  fight  and  die  for  him,  and  three  months  ago 
they  never  heard  of  him.  Isn't  that  splendid?  " 

"  No,  dearest  lady,  it  is  merely  popular  insanity. 
The  public  always  recovers.  Stryne  himself  will 
cure  them.  They  are,  like  you,  carried  away  by 
youth  and  enthusiasm." 

"  Youth,  youth,  Prince !     I  am  twenty-one." 

"  I  said  youth." 

"  I  am  older  than  you  are ;  for  any  woman  is  five 
years  older  than  a  man  of  her  age." 

"  Si,  Signorina,  but  I  am  twenty- seven." 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  an  American,  and  in  the  United 
States  we  live  and  know  more  in  a  month  than  you 
do  in  Italy  in  a  lifetime,  and  so  I  am  at  least  thirty, 
fully  three  years  older  than  you."  Theodosia  felt 
victorious. 

Ruspoli  smiled.  "  Dearest  lady,  I  can  not  permit 
so  many  generalities.  I  grant  everything  you  say 
about  yourself.  You  know  more  than  I  or  any 
European,  or  any  one  except,  perhaps,  Signer  Stryne, 
can  hope  to  know.  Yet  I  can  not  think  all  Ameri- 
cans are  as  wise  as  you.  You  are  just  a  trifle  enthu- 
siastic, just  a  trifle  fantastic." 

"  O  dear,  no !  That  shows  you  don't  understand 
me  at  all.  How  can  the  old  civilization  understand 
the  new  ?  My  predominating  qualities  are  logic  and 

5* 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

common  sense.  When  I  see  a  great  man  I  recognize 
him,  and  you  close  your  eyes.  I  am  going  to  know 
Mr.  Stryne.  Perhaps  he  will  refuse.  He  did  refuse, 
you  know." 

"  And  he  did  quite  right  I  see,  Signorina." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  When  I  saw  you  last  summer  at  Santa  Cruz  I, 
too,  should  have  been  indifferent,  Signorina.  Noth- 
ing but  imbecility  made  me  follow  you  three  days 
that  Consul  Roma  might  present  me.  I  met  every 
woman  in  Santa  Cruz  that  I  did  not  wish  to  know. 
It  seemed  as  tho  I  was  always  just  missing  you.  Had 
I  forced  you  to  want  to  know  me,  and  then  had  I  de- 
clined, what  would  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  Why,  Prince,  you  never  would  have  had  the  op- 
portunity to  refuse.  Only  men  like  Mr.  Stryne  ever 
do.  So  all  that  is  a  waste  of  imagination.  Ah,  I 
think  I  will  give  a  little  dinner  for  him,  and  I'll  ask 
you " 

"  Signorina,  out  of  respect  to  my  cousin,  the  King 
of  Italy,  I  must  decline." 

"  I  shall  ask  you,  Prince,  and  whom  else  ?  Oh, 
Adele  Whiting." 

"Signorina,  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons,  but  my 
honor  does  not  allow  me  to  meet  a  man  of  that 
sort." 

"  Prince,  if  you  refuse  again,  I  shall  not  allow  you 


THE  PRINCE 


even  to  sit  at  my  left.     Oh,  Percy  Oglethorpe !     He 
makes  two." 

"  Dearest  lady,  great  as  is  my  respect,  my  admira- 
tion, I  can  not  see  you  so  abase  yourself  as  to  meet 
an  outcast,  an  adventurer  like  this  fellow.  I  can  not 
countenance  it.  I  can  not  come." 

"  Now,  Prince,  you  are  to  sit  by  Sally  Livingston, 
the  ugliest  girl  I  know.  She  is  awfully  amusing  in 
English,  but  she  speaks  neither  French  nor  Italian. 
That  is  your  penalty.  Lieutenant  Armstrong  will 
make  four." 

"  Colonel  Peyton,  I  appeal  to  you  as  a  wise  parent. 
Miss  Peyton  in  her  inexperience  and  enthusiasm 
talks  of  giving  a  dinner  in  honor  of  this  Stryne,  this 
socialist.  Can  you  not  argue  with  her?"  asked 
Ruspoli  in  slow,  studied  English. 

"  Prince,  agree  with  Theodosia.  Encourage  her. 
This  is  only  an  impulse.  To-morrow  she  will  have 
forgotten  it.  Women  and  lunatics  are  managed  in 
the  same  way.  Theodosia  can  persuade  me  to  near- 
ly anything.  It  is  a  luxury  I  allow  myself,  yield- 
ing to  her.  There  never  was  a  dearer,  kinder, 
gentler,  sweeter  woman  than  Theodosia.  I  like  all 
these  quixotic  impulses  of  hers.  They  show  what 
a  lovable  nature  she  has  if  only  you  understand  her, 
but  I  never  think  of  endeavoring  to  dissuade  or  per- 
suade the  girl." 

53 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

"  Signorina,  carissirna  Signorinay  when  you  tell 
me  that  you  will  know  this  canaille " 

"  My  dear  Prince,  but  you  must  stop  abuse." 

"This  Signor  Stryne,  then,  pardon.  You  hurt 
me.  You  madden  me.  My  vision  is  black.  Must 
I  become  an  Egalite*  and  vote  for  the  death  of  my 
cousin?  Because  of  thee,  I  must  salute  this  man. 
Buona  sera,  Signorina,  beautiful  Signorina." 

The  Prince  bent  over  Theodosia's  hand  until  his 
breath  warmed  its  flesh.  Then  he  slowly  raised  his 
head  and  looked  at  her  as  tho  dazed. 

"  What  must  I  accomplish  ?  Is  it  necessary  for 
me,  as  you  say,  to  *  do  things'  ?  Must  I,  too,  kill 
some  one  ? " 

"  You  have  already  said  '  good-night/  Prince  Rus- 
poli,"  said  Theodosia  as  she  left  him  to  talk  with 
her  other  guests. 


54 


Chapter  V 
THE  ARREST  OF   STRYNE 

every  one  but  the  leader  himself  the  Nob 
Hill  meeting  was  the  greatest  success  of 
his  agitation  in  San  Francisco.  His  fol- 
lowers, his  admirers,  and  his  enemies  applauded  his 
daring  and  audacity. 

As  Stryne  left  the  steps  of  the  Peyton  residence 
that  night,  he  despairingly  ordered  a  lieutenant  to 
extinguish  the  bonfire.  He  was  Achilles,  whose  heel 
had  been  discovered.  All  others  believed  he  was  rid- 
ing on  the  flood- tide  of  fortune,  but  he  felt  that  the 
ebb  was  carrying  him  back  to  obscurity. 

He  doubted  himself  and  that  very  act  alarmed  him. 
What  seemed  success  to  others  was  defeat  to  him. 
As  his  admirers,  shouting,  followed  him  even  to  the 
steps  of  the  cottage  south  of  Market  Street  where  he 
lived,  he  thought,  "  Good  God,  to  be  a  failure  like  a 
common  man,  like  one  of  those  I  lead ! "  He  could 
not  grasp  all  at  once  that  this  destiny  was  marked 
out  for  him. 

Yet,  like  most  men  who  succeed  quickly,  he  was 
superstitious  and  a  fatalist.  To  Stryne,  who  had 

55 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

ever  gloried  in  his  belief  in  himself,  his  career,  to 
waver  was  to  fail.  Doubt  he  fought  off  as  a  monster 
devouring  him. 

No  outward  change  took  place  in  his  conduct.  It 
became  a  fad  among  the  very  young,  the  irresponsi- 
ble, to  attend  his  sand-lot  meetings.  His  numbers 
certainly  increased  each  day,  and  yet,  as  he  walked 
the  streets,  as  he  spoke,  he  felt  that  Doubt  was  lurk- 
ing in  the  corners,  laughing  at  him. 

She  seemed  to  say :  "  Go  on,  build  up  your  house 
of  fame.  When  I  am  ready  I  will  cast  it  down  with 
a  look." 

Sometimes  he  fancied  that  Doubt  was  playing 
hide-and-seek  with  him  and  she  was  always  a  smiling, 
fair,  golden -haired  girl  who  bore  Theodosia  Peyton's 
face. 

McCann  suggested  to  Stryne  that  he  hold  another 
meeting  on  Nob  Hill  since  the  first  was  so  successful. 
For  answer  he  looked  at  the  union  president  several 
seconds,  fearing  to  find  a  sneer  underneath  his  words. 
McCann  was  evidently  sincere  in  his  request,  and 
yet  before  the  socialist's  eyes  was  the  sprite  Doubt, 
mocking  him. 

Stryne  could  no  more  compel  his  men  to  march  up 
California  Street  again  than  he  could  escape  that 
terrible  unbelief  in  himself. 

"No,"   said  he  to  McCann,  "we'll  stick  by  the 
56 


THE  ARREST  OF  STRYNE 


sand-lot."  So  every  evening  at  eight  and  each  Sun- 
day afternoon  at  two  the  square  was  black  with  men 
and  women  listening  to  the  agitator. 

Sundays  people  of  all  ranks  congregated  there,  and 
many  families  included  the  sand-lot  in  their  weekly 
drive.  Stryne's  voice  could  not  reach  the  thousands, 
and  his  lieutenants  caught  up  his  words  at  a  distance 
and  sent  them  on  through  the  air  to  those  who  could 
not  hear  the  leader. 

As  the  capitalists  looked  at  the  great  congested 
populace  they  knew  that  something  was  wrong. 
Four  months  before,  they  argued,  the  people  were  as 
contented  as  the  poor  and  stupid  ever  will  be,  but 
now  they  were  shrieking  out  their  wrongs  in  the 
street.  Clearly  they,  the  property  owners,  had  not 
changed.  The  laboring  classes  were  the  same  as 
ever.  It  was  Stryne  who  altered  the  scene.  He 
was  the  evil  of  whom  they  must  be  rid.  How? 

So  long  as  the  socialist  was  allowed  to  speak  every 
day  on  the  sand-lot,  their  advisers  said  this  move- 
ment would  grow.  The  meetings  must  be  stopped. 

The  Legislature  was  in  session.  Lobbyists  were 
sent  to  Sacramento  and  a  bill  was  passed  in  both 
houses  and  immediately  signed  by  the  Governor, 
which  forbade  more  than  three  people  to  hold  con- 
verse on  the  street  without  a  permit.  Those  who 
disobeyed  the  new  law  were  called  conspirators,  and 

57 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

as  such  were  liable  to  punishment  by  imprison- 
ment. 

Every  one  knew  that  it  was  a  measure  passed  solely 
to  prevent  Stryne's  speeches.  His  men  groaned 
and  howled  on  the  sand-lot  when  they  heard  that 
the  Governor  had  signed  the  bill. 

The  speaker  shouted  to  them :  "  Men  and  women : 
The  bandits  of  Nob  Hill  can  pass  laws.  We  know 
that  the  Legislature  is  composed  of  vermin  who  live 
upon  the  dogs  of  capitalists.  It  is  one  thing  to 
make  a  law  and  it  is  another  to  enforce  it." 

The  following  day  there  were  rumors  of  every  de- 
scription circulating  in  the  city.  One  had  it  that 
Stryne  had  shot  himself  rather  than  surrender  to  the 
officers.  Another  declared  that  he  had  left  San  Fran- 
cisco. Some  people  insisted  that  small  boys  had 
found  his  body  near  the  beach.  The  only  thing  of 
which  any  one  was  positive  was  that  warrants  had 
been  issued  for  the  arrest  of  Stryne  on  the  charge  of 
conspiracy  and  incendiary  language.  It  was  also  cer- 
tain that  he  had  left  his  house  south  of  Market  Street. 

Somewhat  earlier  than  usual  that  evening  great 
numbers  of  Strynites  assembled  in  the  Plaza,  at  that 
time  the  center  of  the  town.  Undoubtedly  many  of 
them  were  armed,  but  the  police  avoided  arrests  for 
they  were  awaiting  the  leader.  The  square  was 

filled  and  swollen  with  people,  while  the  opulent  of 

58 


THE  ARREST  OF  STRYNE 


San  Francisco  were  indignant  that  the  mob  should 
be  allowed  to  congregate. 

From  a  distance  they  viewed  the  populace  and 
asked :  "  What  is  the  use  of  law  or  officers  when  they 
allow  a  mob  to  ride  over  them  like  that  ?  We  might 
as  well  have  no  Legislature.  Capitalists  will  never 
invest  in  a  State  where  property  is  imperiled  by 
rioters." 

The  Strynites  felt  that  they  had  the  upper  hand 
and  became  arrogant  because  the  officers  of  the  law 
arrested  none  of  them.  Residents  of  Nob  Hill  and 
the  prosperous  of  San  Francisco  were  certain  that 
Stryne  would  not  appear. 

"  Oh,  he's  run  away  like  a  cur."  "  You  never  saw 
a  one  of  those  socialists  who  was  really  game  and 
would  fight,"  were  remarks  frequently  heard  from 
the  on-lookers. 

Whatever  unbelief  Stryne  felt  within  himself,  his 
disciples  had  complete  faith  and  prepared  a  rostrum 
for  him.  Two  horse- cars  were  stopped  and  made 
ready  for  his  appearance.  The  crowd  howled  for 
him,  but-  his  followers  were  silent.  None  knew 
where  their  leader  might  be  found,  but  they  were 
annoyed  by  the  hoots  of  unsympathetic  strangers. 
It  was  past  eight  o'clock. 

There  were  few  people  on  Clay  Street  between 
Montgomery  and  Kearny  streets  when  a  small  ragged 

59 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

boy  saw  Stryne's  broad  shoulders  moving  with  delib- 
eration toward  the  assembly.  The  voice  squeaked, 
"  There  comes  Stryne !  " 

The  pulse  of  the  audience  gave  a  quick  throb,  and 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  screamed  with  delight. 
Never  had  there  been  such  tenderness,  adoration, 
and  triumph  in  their  cheers.  Their  throaty,  raucous 
cries  growled  exultation  at  the  doubters. 

Stryne  was  wearing  his  heavy  blue  cloak  as  usual. 
It  seemed  that  he  had  not  varied  an  inch  from  his 
routine  costume.  Armed  men  ten  deep,  hugging 
and  embracing  him,  closed  in  around  him  and  escorted 
him  to  where  he  was  to  speak.  The  officers  stood 
aside  until  he  mounted  the  street -car. 

When  he  showed  himself  in  full  view  of  the  people 
and  heard  their  rapturous  cries,  he  trembled  and 
tears  came  into  his  eyes.  It  was  impossible  for  him 
to  speak.  Vainly  he  spread  out  his  arms  to  silence 
his  friends.  It  was  but  the  beginning  of  more  cheers 
and  shouts. 

These  people  had  so  stretched  themselves  up  to 
the  point  of  hysteria  that  tears  or  laughter  came  at  a 
word.  The  moment  had  arrived  in  the  passion  they 
felt  for  Stryne  that  sacrifice  of  self  for  the  agitator 
was  the  thing  to  be  prayed  for.  Their  hearts 
united  and  begged  as  the  supremest  joy  that  he 

demand   their   bodies    and    souls.     There    was    not 

60 


THE  ARREST  OF  STRYNE 


a  doubter  present  to  say  he  was  unmoved  by  the 
spectacle. 

Yet  Stryne  realized  that  it  was  inartistic  to  weep 
at  a  scene  which  he  had  planned  for  twenty-four 
hours.  It  was  for  this  very  situation  that  he  re- 
mained in  hiding  during  the  day.  If  he  must  go  to 
prison,  he  would  not  be  dragged  to  a  cell  like  a 
wrong-doer,  but  he  determined  to  stand  in  the  brill- 
iant glare  of  his  glory  and  defy  the  officers,  the  law, 
and  the  State  to  magnify  it  by  tearing  him  away  from 
it.  If  he  was  to  go,  every  being  who  had  followed 
him,  drunk  in  his  words,  and  felt  the  frenzy  of  his 
invective  during  these  months,  must  see  the  blood  of 
his  wounds  and  listen  to  the  defiance  of  his  soul. 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  applause.  During  the 
silence  the  thought  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  all 
was,  would  the  officers  dare  carry  out  the  orders  of 
their  chief?  There  was  none  present  but  felt  that 
event  meant  the  beginning  of  a  long  reign  of  blood- 
shed. They  believed  that  it  was  a  spark  to  set 
ablaze  the  homes  of  the  wealthy.  This  silence  of 
Stryne's  was  intentional  and  a  test  of  the  courage  of 
the  other  side.  No  officer  of  the  police  moved,  and 
the  Strynites  exulted.  They  embraced  each  other, 
danced,  and  yelled :  "  The  Chinese  must  go !  What- 
ever happens,  the  Chinese  must  go !  If  not  by  the 

ballot,  then  by  the  bullet.     Ah-h-h!  " 

61 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

Clearly  the  police  had  faltered,  but  a  thick-necked, 
broad-shouldered  captain,  from  whose  eyes  fearless- 
ness calmly  gazed,  stepped  forward,  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  men.  The  captain  and  Stryne  stared  at 
one  another.  The  agitator  and  the  officer  realized 
that  each  had  met  his  equal. 

Every  man  present  regarded  Stryne,  expecting 
some  violent  act.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  impas- 
sive. The  captain  of  the  police  neared  him  and  the 
socialist  merely  waited.  They  expected  his  hand  to 
move  and  that  he  would  make  an  effort  to  defend 
himself. 

Strynites  could  not  realize  that  this  man,  in  whom 
they  had  seen  the  lion's  passion  rage,  could  like  an- 
other submit  to  be  taken  to  prison.  It  was  as  impos- 
sible as  that  a  divinity  should  be  subjected  to  earthly 
laws.  His  disciples  would  not  have  been  surprised 
had  Stryne's  apotheosis  taken  place  at  that  moment. 

He  waited  tranquilly  for  the  officer  to  clamber 
up  the  side  of  the  street-car  and  make  himself 
slightly  ridiculous  in  doing  so.  The  captain  said, 
giving  him  his  full  name  to  add  a  touch  to  the 
dramatic  scene,  "  Paul  Stryne,  I  have  a  warrant  for 
your  arrest. " 

It  was  not  until  Stryne  bowed  and  prepaVed  to 
yield  that  the  people  became  aware  of  nis  intention. 

Then  the  rage  of  his  admirers  burst  forth  in  hoots, 

62 


THE  ARREST  OF  STRYNE 


menaces,  cries  of  agony,  and  hurling  of  rocks.  In  an 
instant  a  dozen  burly,  strong  laborers  were  on  the  car 
with  unsightly  knives  flashing  and  threatening  the 
officers.  Stryne's  hands  were  bound. 

The  situation  had  arrived  which  the  thoughtful 
feared.  It  needed  but  a  word  from  the  leader  and 
rioting  must  begin.  Instead,  he  called  out  in  grave, 
deep  tones,  which  he  knew  so  well  would  vibrate  the 
chords  of  their  souls. 

"  What,  men,  do  I  see  my  friends,  working  men, 
attack  an  officer  of  the  law  ?  We,  the  working  men 
of  San  Francisco,  are  to  be  the  rulers  of  the  city. 
It  is  our  mission  to  make  laws,  not  to  break  them." 

Slowly  the  Strynites  released  their  hold  upon  the 
captain  of  police.  Knives  were  reluctantly  placed 
in  their  belts  and  revolvers  were  sullenly  returned  to 
their  pockets. 

"I  have  appeared  before  you,  men  and  women, 
once  more,  because  I  wanted  to  look  into  your  faces 
again  before  truth  imprisons  me.  You  must  listen 
because  I  am  going  to  say  what  the  calm  wisdom  of 
your  manhood  has  already  told  you. 

"  Commit  no  violence,  injure  no  life,  destroy  no 
property.  Give  none  of  our  enemies  an  excuse  for 
saying  that  we  deserve  imprisonment.  How  many 
are  going  to  make  this  promise  which  concerns  you — 
each  man,  wfrmaji,  and  child  of  you  ?  Ah,  I  am  glad 

63 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

that  the  working  men  of  San  Francisco  always  have 
their  wits  about  them. 

"  Then  I  charge  you  not  to  lose  heart.  The  city 
can  not  build  walls  so  thick  that  my  voice  will  not 
pierce  them.  You  can  not  imprison  justice.  You 
can  not  lock  up  honesty.  The  Constitution  forbids 
it.  Keep  that  in  mind  and  be  patient.  While  I  in- 
habit my  cell  in-  that  big  stone  building  because  I 
wept  for  the  hungry,  because  I  lifted  up  my  voice 
for  the  weak,  because  I  fought  for  right  down-trod- 
den, remember  every  minute  of  my  time  is  to  be 
passed  in  work  for  you. 

"  Our  success  is  as  certain  as  my  persecution. 
Imprisonment  of  the  body  is  nothing ;  I  have  slept 
on  stone  before.  In  my  cell  I  shall  not  envy  the 
men  on  Nob  Hill  who  are  sending  me  there  the  pos- 
session of  their  downy  beds.  I  have  a  clear  con- 
science. If  my  incarceration  can  help  you  I  thank 
God  for  it. 

"  As  for  gratitude  to  you  for  your  honesty,  your 
manhood,  your  loyalty  to  yourselves  and  to  me, 
friends,  how  can  I  speak  of  it  ?  Some  ties  are  too 
sacred  for  the  profanation  of  words.  You  know 
what  I  am  to  you  and  God  sees  what  you  are  to 
me. 

"  Again  before  we  separate,  our  oath :  '  Whatever 

happens,  the  Chinese  must  go ! ' 

64 


THE  ARREST  OF  STRYNE 


Ten  thousand  hands  were  raised  and  the  vow 
spread  upward  to  the  sky. 

Then  Stryne  closed  his  cape,  donned  his  hat  and 
said,  "Now,  Mr.  Officer,  I  am  your  prisoner." 

As  the  leader  passed  through  the  crowd,  the  men 
touched  his  cloak,  pressed  his  hand,  the  tears 
streamed  down  their  cheeks.  Some  of  the  more  im- 
petuous stood  with  their  hands  on  their  hip  pockets. 
Stryne  shook  his  head  and  patted  their  backs.  Boys 
embraced  him  and  went  to  hide  in  their  sobbing 
mothers'  arms.  It  was  like  the  funeral  of  a  great 
man.  They  followed  him  up  the  street,  and  as  the 
prison  door  closed  upon  him,  a  wail  of  anguish  re- 
verberated in  the  serene,  silent  night  of  the  city. 


Chapter  VI 
THEODOSIA'S  SIX-IN-HAND 


[ROM  the  beginning  of  their  residence  in 
San  Francisco,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Peyton 
occupied  a  distinctive  position.  Knox 
Peyton  was  educated  at  the  University  of  Virginia. 
Later  he  became  a  lawyer  and  brought  his  young 
wife  to  California. 

Mrs.  Peyton  was  a  handsome,  vivacious,  imperi- 
ous woman  to  whose  sway  society  readily  submitted 
because  she  was  Theodosia  Custis  of  Virginia,  edu- 
cated in  Paris,  married  to  a  Peyton,  possessed  of  a 
goodly  fortune,  and  would  have  moved  to  the  South 
Sea  Islands  or  another  unlikely  spot  rather  than  ab- 
dicate a  jot  of  her  right  to  reign  in  any  place  where 
she  might  reside. 

Mrs.  Peyton  instructed  early  San  Francisco  society 
in  the  gentler  arts  of  civilization.  Society  accepted 
her  as  a  tutor  because  it  was  certain  that  she  was 
"  somebody  at  home."  There  was  some  doubt  about 
many  of  the  others.  Several  Southern  women  had 
achieved  certain  renown  from  tales  of  their  fortunes 

lost  during  the  war,  but  Mrs.  Peyton  placidly  hurled 

66 


THEODOSIA'S  SIX-IN-HAND 


them  from  their  pedestal  by  declaring  that  "  Un- 
doubtedly they  were  most  respectable  people,  but  she 
had  never  heard  of  them." 

Many  a  heart  stopped  beating  from  fear  lest  Mrs. 
Peyton  had  never  heard  of  them.  Not  to  be  heard 
of  by  Mrs.  Peyton  meant  social  decline.  To  be 
called  "  a  nobody  and  an  upstart "  by  Mrs.  Peyton 
meant  ostracism. 

Knox  Peyton  became  an  attorney  for  corporations. 
Soon  he  acquired  large  mining  interests.  His  for- 
tune grew  and  with  it  Mrs.  Peyton's  arrogance.  She 
would  not  have  admitted  it,  for  it  was  a  pose  of  hers 
to  deplore  her  husband's  wealth. 

However,  Mrs.  Peyton  was  sufficiently  sincere  in 
her  remorse  for  his  sins  against  her  code  of  a  gentle- 
man to  aid  him  in  sending  vast  sums  back  into  gen- 
eral circulation.  The  Peyton  dinners,  balls,  recep- 
tions, and  theater  parties  are  still  discussed  in 
San  Francisco.  They  illustrated  Mrs.  Peyton's 
theory  that,  while  a  gentleman  might  possibly  by 
accident  earn  money,  it  was  beneath  him  to  keep 
it. 

Mrs.  Peyton  had  the  most  philanthropic  motive 
in  entertaining,  for  she  felt  it  her  duty  as  a  conscien- 
tious member  of  Grace  Church  to  give  San  Francisco 
society  some  idea  of  how  things  should  be  done.  It 

pleased  her  to  observe  that  society  endeavored  to 

6? 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

imitate  her  and  make  itself  supportable  to  her  deli- 
cate nerves. 

The  Peytons  traveled  extensively.  The  Peytons 
spoke  modern  languages.  The  Peytons  had  the  first 
liveried  servants  in  San  Francisco.  The  Peytons 
had  the  first  private  carriages  in  San  Francisco. 
The  Peytons  brought  from  abroad  the  newest  models 
of  modes.  The  Peytons  were  on  the  visiting-list  of 
more  or  less  important  nobility  of  several  countries 
in  Europe, 

Her  aunt,  Mrs.  Peyton  never  forgot  to  remind  Mr. 
Peyton,  Theodosia,  and  society,  was  the  Lady  Somer- 
set of  England. 

Theodosia  grew  to  be  the  prettiest  girl  in  San 
Francisco,  at  least  in  society.  She  had  all  her 
father's  good  nature,  gaiety,  charm  of  manner,  and 
none  of  her  mother's  arrogance.  Just  when  Mrs. 
Peyton  was  thinking  of  taking  Theodosia  abroad  to 
be  presented  at  European  courts  by  Lady  Somerset, 
she  died,  and  the  girl  made  her  debut  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

Straightway  she  became  the  head  of  her  father's 
brownstone  house  on  California  Street,  and  routed 
all  the  widows  and  elderly  maidens  who  designed  to 
take  him  from  her.  Colonel  Peyton  was  not  an  old 
man  and  the  blood  of  the  South  was  in  his  veins, 
He  could  not  see  loveliness  without  desiring  it. 

68 


THEODOSIA  S  SIX-IN-HAND 


Theodosia  called  herself  his  chaperon  and  prevented 
any  undesirable  entanglements. 

When  she  was  nineteen  people  commented  upon 
the  maturity  of  her  manner.  Her  explanation  was, 
"  A  girl  does  grow  old  bringing  up  a  father,  as  I 
have  done  for  years." 

By  the  time  Theodosia  became  a  woman,  the  Pey- 
tons  had  entertained  every  American  or  foreigner  of 
distinction  who  had  visited  the  city.  Travelers  went 
to  their  house  instead  of  hotels,  and  some  of  them 
were  penurious  enough  to  count  in  advance  upon 
no  hotel  bill  while  in  the  city.  Consequently  San 
Franciscans  in  any  part  of  the  globe  were  first  asked, 
"  Do  you  know  the  Peytons  ?  "  One  Englishman 
said,  "  California.  Oh,  yes.  That  is  where  the 
Peytons  live." 

After  Mrs.  Peyton's  death,  Theodosia  did  not  de- 
mand but  accepted  as  a  heritage  her  mother's  posi- 
tion. Without  endeavoring  to  protest,  every  one 
yielded  to  her  rule.  Women  much  older  than  she 
paid  her  deference  exacted  by  her  mother.  Theo- 
dosia found  life  a  very  agreeable  existence,  and 
wondered  why  people  could  weep  or  be  angry,  ex- 
cept, of  course,  girls  whose  fathers  suggest  step- 
mothers. 

At  nineteen  Theodosia  sang  with  a  high,  pure 
soprano  voice,  played  the  piano  brilliantly,  read 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

superficially  most  books  worth  while,  and  spoke 
several  languages. 

She  had  run  the  gamut  of  flirtation  and  was  re- 
puted to  be  able  to  "drive  a  six- in-hand  almost  as 
well  as  six  horses  in  the  mountains."  This  meant 
that  she  could  conduct  some  stage  of  a  flirtation  with 
half  a  dozen  men  at  a  time.  In  fact,  she  preferred 
that  number,  for  she  realized  the  perils  of  one.  It 
might  be  the  mildest  form  of  friendship,  but  eventu- 
ally the  man  was  certain  to  look  things,  and  then  to 
say  them.  Sentiment  always  resulted  and  pleasure 
was  spoiled.  Two  men  were  almost  as  bad.  She 
found  four  quite  as  difficult  to  manage  as  six,  and 
considerably  less  exciting.  Six  was  a  game  worth 
playing. 

Theodosia  had  finished  her  knowledge  of  the 
French  language  by  a  flirtation  with  a  lieutenant  of 
the  French  navy  whose  ship  was  in  port.  His 
fiancee  was  in  Paris  and  Theodosia  really  intended 
nothing  but  friendship  and  a  serious  study  of  French 
literature.  So  long  as  there  was  a  fiance'e  in  Paris 
Theodosia  was  not  alarmed.  How  could  there  be 
anything  but  friendship  when  a  man  has  just  left  a 
woman  he  is  to  marry?  Then  French  literature  is 
certainly  the  opposition  to  flirtation. 

She  had  done  all  within  her  power  to  prevent  the 

result,  and  so  one  should  not  blame  her  that  she  was 

70 


THEODOSIA'S  SIX-IN-HAND 


astonished,  quite  amazed  when  the  Frenchman  told 
her  that  he  hated  literature,  that  he  only  pretended 
to  like  it  to  be  near  her,  that  he  loved  her  and  in- 
tended to  abandon  his  fiancee.  Theodosia  was  afraid 
she  could  find  no  honest  men. 

On  another  occasion,  when  she  had  the  most 
laudable  desire  to  study  the  history  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  she  also  met  with  disheartening  results. 
She  always  possessed  an  interest  in  the  wonderful 
institution,  but  the  common,  serf-like  countenances 
of  the  Irish  peasant  priests  offended  her  artistic 
sense  which  demanded  beauty  for  her  eyes.  Besides 
she  felt  it  would  be  a  reflection  upon  her  intelligence 
to  attend  church  with  servants. 

So  when  a  handsome,  dark-eyed,  pale-faced  Span- 
ish priest  came  to  San  Francisco,  she  concluded  that 
it  would  be  interesting  to  learn  from  him  the  history 
of  his  church.  Certainly  there  could  be  no  better 
opportunity  for  improving  her  Spanish  accent.  The 
padre  rejoiced  greatly  over  his  prospect  of  prosely- 
ting so  influential  a  young  woman  as  Theodosia 
Peyton. 

After  several  weeks  of  calls  at  his  study,  and 
bending  over  big  mysterious  books  together  and 
many  personal  conversations,  Theodosia  gave  him 
this  decision : 

"  I  will  become  a  Catholic,  Father,  if  you  will  not 


THE  SOC1ELIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

ask  me  to  believe  all  your  rubbish ;  if  I  am  never 
expected  to  go  to  church  with  those  horrid,  stupid, 
ordinary  domestics ;  if  I  may  always  hear  you  preach, 
and  if  I  may  always  confess  to  you,  and  then  as 
little  as  I  please." 

Theodosia  was  quite  right  in  believing  that  a 
priest  should  have  no  sex.  Undoubtedly  she  should 
have  had  the  privilege  of  a  frank  avowal.  It  was 
the  duty  of  \hepadre  to  view  it  impersonally. 

Yet  that  night  she  awoke  to  find  a  basket  of  crim- 
son roses  passed  through  a  window  into  her  room. 
A  moan  came  from  the  ground  below.  The  young 
priest  was  lying  prostrate,  for  the  ladder  on  which 
he  mounted  had  fallen  in  his  descent. 

Colonel  Peyton  was  given  Theodosia's  entire  con- 
fidence. "  I  assure  you,  papa,  it  was  not  my  fault. 
I  was  so  particular  that  it  couldn't  be  my  fault. 
Why,  I  was  almost  serious  and  solemn.  So  was  the 
padre.  I  was  determined  that  if  anything  came  of 
it — of  course,  I  realized  there  might  be  some  little 
danger,  men  are  so  silly,  you  know — he  could  never 
say  I  was  to  blame.  Now,  tell  me,  papa,  it  was  not 
my  fault,  was  it  ?  Say  you  believe  in  me  or  I  shall 
not  sleep." 

Colonel  Peyton  shook  his  head.  "Theodosia,  it 
was  your  fault,  but  you  can  not  help  it.  This  was 

merely  a  new  sort  of  a  flirtation — religious." 

72 


THEODOSIAS  SIX-IN-HAND 


The  padre  was  conveyed  to  his  home,  and  Colonel 
Peyton  called  upon  the  Archbishop.  In  another 
church  there  might  have  been  gossip,  but  in  the  well- 
regulated  Catholic  institution  the  young  man  was 
merely  sent  into  the  interior  of  Alaska  for  discipline. 
In  his  sagacious  middle  age  he  was  made  a  bishop. 

Soon  afterward,  while  Theodosia  was  in  New 
York,  she  admitted  that  she  was  conducting  a  flirta- 
tion with  the  German  consul-general.  The  others 
she  had  called  literature  and  religion,  but  her 
honesty  forced  her  to  designate  this  by  its  own 
name. 

The  girl  explained  to  her  father  when  Colonel 
Peyton  objected :  "  Don't  moralize,  papa,  I  am  going 
to  San  Francisco  in  three  weeks.  Then  it  will  be 
all  over.  You  know  it  is  dreadful  enough  to  live 
there,  so  don't  deprive  me  of  amusement." 

"Theodosia,"  replied  Colonel  Peyton,  "when  have 
I  opposed  your  amusement?  But  I  object  to  this 
wasting  of  your  time  and  character.  What  sort  of  a 
wife  are  you  going  to  be  ?  You  will  never  be  able 
to  fix  upon  one  man.  You  are  not  serious  with  Von 
Sternberg.  Flirtation  is  as  unwholesome  for  the 
heart  as  stimulants  are  for  the  body." 

"  Papa,  I  don't  want  a  homily  on  flirtation,  because 
you  are  such  a  dear,  good  man  that  you  are  not  capa- 
ble of  giving  it.  Now  I  could  instruct  you.  Tell 

73 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

me,  dear  old  boy,  don't  you  really  think  that  we 
women  who  are  exiled  three  thousand  miles  from 
anything  that  is  worth  living  for,  and  six  thousand 
miles  from  all  that  is  worth  living  for,  ought  to  have 
a  little  recreation?  You  yourself  admit  that  my 
German  is  greatly  improved." 

Colonel  Peyton  looked  at  his  daughter  and  asked : 
"Theodosia,  is  it  possible  that  you  have  studied 
these  various  languages  to  have  a  novelty  in  love- 
making,  new  methods,  as  it  were  ?  " 

Theodosia 's  voice  gurgled  into  laughter,  and  put- 
ting her  arms  about  her  parent's  neck,  she  said : 
"  What  a  wise  old  boy  it  is.  How  did  you  ever  find 
that  out  ? " 

The  Peytons  returned  to  their  home.  Within  a 
short  time  the  German  consul-general  exchanged  his 
better  post  in  New  York  for  that  in  San  Francisco. 
When  the  colonel  read  it  he  came  with  his  news- 
paper in  trembling  hand,  to  give  the  information  to 
Theodosia. 

"  My  daughter,"  began  he — and  Theodosia  realized 
from  this  preface  that  her  father  was  about  to  make 
her  uncomfortable — "  read  that.  Von  Sternberg  is  to 
come  to  San  Francisco.  You  recollect,  my  dear, 
what  I  told  you  in  New  York " 

"I   recall  every  one   of  your  words  of  wisdom, 

dearest,  but  what  do  they  matter  now?     I  am  going 

74 


THEODOSIA' S  SIX-IN-HAND 


to  be  serious.  I  am  going  to  be  married.  My  fiance" 
is  Jack  Faversham." 

"  A  remittance  man,  Theodosia. " 

"  John  Cecil  Percy  Faversham,  of  Faversham  Hall, 
Suffolk,  England,  papa." 

"  You  don't  know  him,  my  child. " 

"That's  the  charm  of  Jack,  papa.  I  don't  know 
him.  I  hope  I  never  shall.  I'm  so  tired  of  people 
I  know.  I  can  tell  you  the  number  of  teeth  of  every 
one  in  San  Francisco,  which  tenth  cousin  went  to 
the  bad,  what  their  incomes  are,  whose  mother 
worked  in  a  grocery,  whose  grandmother  was  a  bar- 
maid. The  place  is  so  small  that  every  one  is  dis- 
sected until  he  is  as  uninteresting  as  a  relative.  I 
like  the  charm,  the  mystery  of  not  knowing  people. 
When  I  meet  a  new  person  I  feel  like  a  Miss  Colum- 
bus setting  out  for  the  Indies." 

"Well  enough  for  conversation  in  a  novel,  but 
not  practical,  my  dear.  Men  understand  each  other 
better  than  women  can  know  them.  I  mention  this 
merely  to  protect  you,  Theodosia — but  Faversham  is 
a  drunkard." 

"  That  will  give  me  a  mission,  papa,  dear.  I  shall 
reform  him." 

"  Theodosia,  do  be  serious.  Listen,  do  you  love 
Faversham? " 

"As  much  as  Von  Steinberg,  or  any  of  my  six-in- 

75 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

hand.  It  is  not  that  I  care  so  much  for  him,  but  he 
loves  me  and  I  have  accepted  him. " 

"Then  why,  my  dear  Theodosia,  marry  him?  " 

"  I  tell  you  papa,  in  order  to  be  serious,  I  must 
have  some  sort  of  a  purpose.  I  may  seem  trivial  in 
conversation,  but  I  am  really  quite  in  earnest." 

There  was  to  have  been  a  great  wedding  at  Grace 
Church,  a  large  reception  at  the  Peyton  house,  and 
the  most  beautiful  bride  of  the  season.  The  mar- 
riageable women  of  San  Francisco  rejoiced  for  two 
reasons.  The  first  was  that  their  rival  who  had  so 
often  lightly  upset  all  of  their  own  affairs  of  the 
heart  was  at  last  to  be  hors  de  combat,  and  the  match 
she  was  making  was  not  enviable.  The  second  was 
that,  with  Theodosia  out  of  the  way,  Colonel  Peyton 
was  almost  certain  to  marry  again. 

From  the  time  of  the  betrothal  until  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  wedding  were  almost  complete,  Jack 
Faversham  was  intoxicated.  Despite  the  daily  pro- 
tests in  the  word  and  glance  of  Colonel  Peyton, 
Theodosia  followed  her  determination. 

Finally,  two  weeks  before  the  wedding,  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  prematrimonial  festivities  in  her 
honor,  she  sought  her  father  and  quite  gravely  an- 
nounced :  "  It  is  the  old  story  repeated,  I  go  so  far 
and  then  I  balk.  I  have  had  a  revulsion  of  feeling. 

I  can  not  carry  out  this  marriage,  and  I  don't  think 

76 


THEODOSIA'S  SIX-IN-HAND 


I  shall  ever  care  enough  for  any  man  to  abandon  my 
liberty  for  him.  One  thing  is  certain,  however,  I 
can  not  be  the  wife  of  a  perpetual  drunkard. 
Jack's  carousals  are  getting  to  be  a  continuous  per- 
formance. He  would  never  be  sober  long  enough 
to  hear  even  my  first  temperance  lecture. " 

Colonel  Peyton  was  too  happy  over  her  sudden 
and  unexpected  resolution,  and  too  pleased  to  keep 
his  daughter  with  him  to  reproach  her  for  the  un- 
pleasant chatter  that  would  result  from  her  jilting 
Faversham  so  near  the  altar.  So  he  merely  said  to 
his  daughter : 

"  It  is  better  for  you  to  say  '  No  '  during  the  cere- 
mony even,  than  contract  an  unhappy  marriage, 
Theodosia.  I  am  sure  you  will  be  a  good  wife  for 
the  right  man,  but  if  you  are  only  half-possessed,  I 
should  be  extremely  alarmed. " 

Theodosia's  father  offered  to  make  the  announce- 
ment of  her  change  in  plans  immediately,  for  he 
feared  lest  she  might  again  alter  her  mind.  When 
he  returned  from  Faversham 's  hotel,  and  told  her 
that  her  former  fiancd  was  quite  inebriated,  and 
scarcely  realized  the  meaning  of  his  words,  she 
threw  out  her  arms  as  if  shaking  off  the  last  trace  of 
his  memory,  and  said : 

"  Thank  you,  dear  old  boy.  Vou  are  such  a  good 
fellow  always  to  stand  up  for  me,  whether  I  am  right 

77 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

or  wrong.  Let  me  give  you  a  kiss.  That  was  a 
narrow  escape,  and  I  am  glad  the  affair  is  over." 

Faversham  went  for  an  extended  debauch  to  Hon- 
olulu by  the  next  steamer,  and  the  returning  mail 
brought  news  of  his  death  before  his  arrival  in 
Hawaii.  Immediately  every  one  said,  "  A  broken 
heart — a  woman  was  his  ruin  "  ;  but  the  ship's  stew- 
ards could  have  easily  set  them  right. 

Theodosia  wore  black  for  three  months  and  refused 
all  invitations. 


Chapter  VII 
THEODOSIA   AS  BONDSMAID       . 

every  city  there  are  a  few  persons  of 
whom  society  asks  neither  excuses  nor 
explanations ;  in  San  Francisco  Theodosia 
was  one  of  these.  During  her  period  of  mourning, 
she  wore  a  solemn  mien  in  keeping  with  her  garb, 
and  went  often  to  the  Catholic  Church,  thereby 
alarming  the  rector  of  Grace  Church,  who  gently 
and  vainly  protested.  She,  however,  only  laughed 
and  rather  encouraged  the  rumor  that  she  might 
at  any  time  take  the  veil.  Still,  when  again  she 
wore  colors,  she  went  back  to  her  former  gay, 
merry,  pleasure-bent  self.  San  Francisco  might  in- 
terpret her  in  its  thousand  own  ways;  she  disre- 
garded its  existence,  and  did  not  seem  conscious  of 
the  feminine  alarm  over  her  reappearance  in  society. 
From  this  time  forward  the  newest  philosophy  of 
the  mind,  soul,  theology,  or  science  found  Theodosia 
ready  to  coquet  with  it.  She  took  a  trip  to  India  to 
decide  for  herself  if  Alibabahula,  who  claimed  to 
be  the  Messiah,  really  was  God's  mundane  represen- 
tative. Sally  Livingston  remarked  that  Theodosia 

79 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

must  have  either  a  man  or  religion  to  flirt  with. 
When  she  returned  she  brought  back  an  emerald 
wineglass  which  he  gave  her,  and  the  epitaph  on  the 
grave  of  her  fad  was,  "  Alababahula  had  the  most 
glorious  eyes  in  the  world." 

She  knew  intimately  most  of  the  celebrated  men 
and  women  of  that  period.  The  world  smoothed 
down  the  prominences  of  her  individuality,  leaving 
her  character  somewhat  arrested  in  its  development. 

She  met  a  stately,  white-haired  leader  of  the 
Senate,  whom  she  had  long  desired  to  know.  "I'm 
a  perfect  goose,  Senator,  a  mere  autograph  album  of 
great  people,  but  you  will  let  me  know  you,  will  you 
not  ?  I  warn  you  I  can  do  nothing  but  understand 
and  admire  you." 

The  Senator,  observing  carefully  the  velvety  flush 
of  her  cheeks,  the  blue  of  her  eyes,  and  the  gold  of 
her  hair,  made  her  his  most  courteous  bow,  and  said : 
"  Miss  Peyton,  it  is  unnecessary  for  you  to  do  any- 
thing. Your  duty  is  finished  since  you  exist  and 
allow  us  to  see  you." 

Directly  they  were  the  best  of  friends.  They  were 
to  wed,  all  expected,  but,  instead,  she  sailed  for  Japan. 
Theodosia  shied  at  matrimony,  for  once  she  had  been 
badly  frightened  by  it. 

On  the  morning  of  her  twenty-first  birthday  Theo- 
dosia had  been  alarmed  at  herself.  Several  weeks 

80 


THEODOSIA   AS   BONDSMAID 

had  passed  without  an  event,  book,  or  individual  to 
attract  her.  She  wondered  if  she  had  lived  at  too 
great  speed  and  exhausted  sensation.  Six-in-hands 
bored  her  because  there  were  no  interesting  men  or 
animals  to  harness.  She  knew  how  they  all  would 
act. 

When  admirers  made  love  to  her,  they  no  longer 
pleased  her  vanity.  During  the  most  impassioned 
scenes  she  found  herself  wishing  the  suppliant  would 
change  his  tailor,  comb  his  hair  differently,  or  could 
say  "  I  love  you  "  without  turning  red. 

This  was  a  state  of  mind  which  terrorized  her. 
Ennui  was  to  Theodosia,  so  utterly  dependent  upon 
her  surroundings,  as  dyspepsia  is  to  a  gourmand  or 
alcoholism  to  a  drunkard.  Could  it  be  that  the  end 
to  amusement  had  come? 

It  was  Miss  Peyton's  nature  to  desire  all  life's 
pleasures,  to  know  and  feel  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
the  fullest  measure  that  beauty,  strength,  culture, 
luxury,  and  art  can  supply.  Theodosia  had  some 
doubts  about  her  future  existence.  Especially  she 
dreaded  to  be  stripped  of  all  her  follies,  faults,  and 
sins — to  become  "just  a  commonplace  angel,"  as  she 
said.  So,  hugging  every  one  of  them  to  her  bosom, 
she  feverishly  sought  excitement  and  amusement. 
Her  only  fear  was  that  she  would  be  robbed  of  some 

pleasure  in  this  life. 

6  8j 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

One  and  twenty  found  Theodosia  at  the  Peyton 
country  home  at  Santa  Cruz  with  nothing  but  ennui 
as  far  as  the  horizon  stretched.  She  shuddered. 

Presently  Prince  Alessandro  Ruspoli  appeared  at 
that  resort  as  the  guest  of  the  Italian  consul.  He 
was  the  cousin  of  King  Humbert  by  the  morganatic 
marriage  of  the  Princess  Vittoria  of  the  House  of 
Savoy  with  Gen.  Alessandro  Ruspoli.  Because  the 
Princess  so  faithfully  and  obstinately  had  awaited 
the  King's  consent  during  many  years  to  wed  her 
soldier  lover,  Humbert  never  permitted  the  Ruspoli 
descendants  to  feel  that  there  was  a  flaw  in  their 
birth.  While  of  course  barred  from  succession,  at 
court  they  had  the  privileges  to  which  the  rank  of 
their  mother  entitled  them,  but  they  were  quite  de- 
pendent upon  the  humors  of  their  royal  cousins. 

Theodosia  felt  that  the  Prince  was  the  impossible, 
the  unattainable;  and  inconsequence  life  again  wore 
rose  and  mauve  tints  for  her.  It  was  the  gay  sum- 
mer season  at  Santa  Cruz,  and  in  those  days  the  best 
and  most  beautiful  of  California  remained  at  home 
instead  of  passing  the  time  abroad.  The  Italian  met 
with  courteous  ceremony  the  handsome  young  women 
who  received  him  with  too  much  effusion. 

Theodosia  continued  her  rowing,  swimming,  and 
riding,  seemingly  oblivious  that  he  existed.  When 

Miss  Peyton  saw  a  group  of  friends  determined  to 

82 


THEODOSIA  AS  BONDSMAID 

present  Ruspoli  to  her,  she  went  in  the  opposite 
direction.  Santa  Cruz  was  treated  to  a  daily  hunt 
for  Theodosia.  She  refused  an  invitation  to  luncheon 
because  she  knew  he  was  to  be  a  guest.  Yet  that 
was  a  brilliant  azure  and  silver  day.  Theodosia  was 
merely  watching  her  champagne  bubble  before  she 
drank  it. 

At  last  the  Prince  vowed  that  he  would  leave 
Santa  Cruz.  All  her  friends  pleaded  with  her  to 
meet  him,  and  Theodosia  graciously  permitted  the 
introduction. 

Ruspoli  had  fixed  his  day  of  departure  for  a  week 
from  the  time  he  met  Miss  Peyton,  but  one  month, 
two  months,  three  months  passed,  and  still  he  was  to 
leave  the  following  week.  The  Peytons  returned 
from  Santa  Cruz  and  the  Prince  assured  every  one 
that  he  would  depart  within  a  fortnight,  altho  the 
climate  of  the  Golden  Gate  was  most  delightful. 
San  Francisco,  strangely  enough,  was  like  his  own 
land,  and  it  held  him  enthralled. 

Yet  society  knew  why  he  remained,  and  Colonel 
Peyton  informed  his  daughter  of  his  objection  to  the 
Italian's  presence.  Her  friends  could  not  under- 
stand her  folly,  because  the  Prince  was  necessarily 
subject  to  the  will  of  his  cousin.  In  a  case  in  which 
marriage  was  so  utterly  out  of  the  question,  the 
practical,  feminine  American  mind  could  not  com- 

83 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

prehend  why  Theodosia  wasted  her  time.  As  winter 
wore  on  she  had  the  new  experience  of  being  harshly 
criticized  by  the  Puritanical  tongues  of  the  city. 
None  could  comprehend  that  Theodosia  and  the 
Prince  were  fascinated  by  their  inability  to  belong 
to  each  other. 

During  those  months  he  would  have  told  a  less 
experienced  woman  that  he  loved  her,  but  Theodosia 
ever  bounded  away  from  him  when  he  began.  She 
forbade  him  to  write  her  letters. 

In  reality  nothing  had  interested  Theodosia  so 
much  since  her  study  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
in  Spanish.  Now  she  recalled  the  pleasure  she  had 
felt  in  watching  the  young  priest  balance  himself  on 
the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and  then  for  giddiness  run 
back. 

Every  person  was  to  Theodosia  a  puzzle  and  she 
amused  herself  with  the  solution  of  it.  There  were 
ever  unusual  natures  being  placed  in  unexpected 
circumstances.  Here  was  Prince  Alessandro  Rus- 
poli,  who  had  no  right  to  her,  following  her  every- 
where, and,  by  her  will  and  against  her  will,  looking 
love,  sighing  love — doing  everything  but  speaking  it. 
There  were  no  rules  or  comparisons  by  which  she 
could  fancy  the  result.  She  never  had  read  the 
same  story  before. 

Ruspoli  called  to  take  tea  with  her  the  day  after 
84 


THEODOSIA   AS  BONDSMAID 

she  learned  that  Stryne  was  imprisoned.  As  he  en- 
tered the  room,  his  dark  eyes  glistening  in  their 
deep  sockets,  she  wondered  if  she  really  cared  to 
know  the  last  chapter.  Ruspoli  wore  the  frock-coat 
of  the  period  which  gave  him  exceedingly  broad 
shoulders  and  a  small  waist.  His  cheeks  were  color- 
less, but  health  was  in  his  eyes  and  lips.  As  he 
bent  over  her  hand,  he  said  by  his  look,  his  attitude, 
all  that  words  could  have  told  her.  No  man's  salu- 
tation meant  so  much. 

Ruspoli  looked  at  Theodosia  in  her  silver  gauze 
princesse  gown,  with  her  hair  as  usual  in  long  curls 
down  her  back,  her  eyes  shining  from  the  pleasure  of 
his  presence.  His  glance  read  the  wish  that  they 
might  continue  to  drift  along  in  their  old  philander- 
ing relation. 

He  spoke  in  Italian  as  he  always  did  when  ear- 
nest :  "  No,  it  can  not  be  like  this,  Signorina.  Now 
that  I  have  uttered  those  words,  every  check  on  my- 
self has  been  swept  away.  It  was  more  than  cruel 
of  you  to  force  me  to  wait  these  long  days  to  talk 
with  you.  Ah,  but  you  could  not  prevent  me  from 
seeing  you.  You  rode  yesterday  at  ten,  Signorina. 
You  drove  in  the  afternoon,  wearing  a  blue  gown,  a 
blue  hat  with  a  pink  rose.  You  returned  at  six, 
Signorina.  At  five  minutes  past  eleven  the  lights 
in  your  room  were  turned  out.  I  remained  looking 

85 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

at  your  window  until  twelve.  Once  I  saw  your 
shadow  on  the  curtain.  When  I  was  positive  that 
you  dreamt  I  went  away.  Shall  I  give  you  a  catalog 
of  the  other  days  ?  " 

"No,  Prince." 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me,  not  a  word  ?  I 
waited  very  long,  Signorina. " 

Ruspoli's  eyes  approached  hers  closely  and  held 
them  prisoners  while  he  spoke.  As  he  awaited  an 
answer  Theodosia  realized  that  he  was  more  the 
master  than  she.  Then  she  walked  quickly  to  the 
window,  and  returned,  her  face  amiably  indifferent, 
the  usual  Theodosia. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  with  simulated  gravity,  "  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  something  important,  which 
will  sadden  you,  I  know.  My  dinner  for  Mr.  Stryne 
must  be  postponed." 

"Oh,  Signorina,"  groaned  Ruspoli. 

"  It  is  true,  Prince,  for  he  is  in  jail,  put  there  by 
us,  by  you,  me,  Colonel  Peyton,  the  Walsinghams, 
the  Pickens,  all  of  us  bandits  of  the  earth.  It's 
odious,  a  crying,  burning  disgrace.  To  think  you 
can  say  these  frivolous  things  while  that  poor 
fellow  is  languishing  down  there  in  prison.  .Are 
you  not  ashamed  of  yourself?  You  ought  to 
be." 

"Signorina,  I  love  thee." 
86 


THEODOSIA  AS  BONDSMAID 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  about  love,  Prince,  when  that 
martyr  is  in  a  horrid,  moldy,  awful  cell,  suffering, 
starving,  while  the  rest  of  us  are  in  comfort.  It  is 
a  sin." 

Percy  Oglethorpe  had  just  entered  with  Adele 
Whiting.  Adele  not  only  wore  the  misfit  clothing 
of  Theodosia,  but  hoped  for  her  cast-off  lovers  as 
well. 

"  Dear  Miss  Peyton,"  drawled  Oglethorpe,  "  pray 
do  not  make  sentimental  statements.  Stryne  is  as 
jolly  comfortable  as  we  are.  His  cell  is  fitted  with 
cushions,  rugs,  flowers.  His  meals  are  sent  him 
from  the  best  restaurants.  They  are  really  making 
a  hero  of  him.  I  dare  say  the  chap  is  very  happy. 
It  is  more  than  he  deserves. " 

"  He  was  always  a  hero,  Percy  Oglethorpe." 

"Doesn't that  depend  upon  the  point  of  view,  Miss 
Peyton  ?  I  dare  say,  now,  Pickens  would  not  agree 
with  you.  There  is  no  denying  that  Stryne  made  a 
bonfire  of  his  lumber." 

"  Of  course,  and  he  had  a  right  to  it,  Mr.  Ogle- 
thorpe, because  Mr.  Pickens  is  a  bandit,  like  you, 
like  me,  like  the  Prince,  like  Adele,  like  all  of  us 
who  have  more  than  we  deserve,  and  then  lock  up 
men  like  Stryne  merely  because  they  are  trying  to 
put  bread  in  the  mouths  of  the  poor.  We  ought  to 
help  him." 

87 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Oglethorpe  sank  into  his  chair.  Ruspoli  was  in 
speechless  despair. 

Adele  Whiting  exclaimed,  "  Now,  Theo  dear,  don't 
call  me  a  bandit.  I  haven't  a  cent  to  my  name.  I 
have  three  good  dresses,  but  I  am  sure  I  don't  know 
however  I  can  hope  to  replace  them.  I  never  saw 
the  day  yet  when  I  wasn't  hard  up.  In  fact  I'm  a 
Strynite  except  that  I  happen  to  be  in  society. " 

"  It  really  isn't  fair  of  you,  Miss  Peyton,  to  class 
a  beggar  like  me  as  an  oppressor  of  the  poor,"  argued 
Percy.  "  I  have  reached  the  point  where  I  never 
hope  to  pay  any  bills,  and  it  keeps  me  jolly  busy  de- 
stroying them.  The  confounded  tradesmen  really 
oppress  me.  I  think  I'll  become  a  corner  grocer  and 
send  bills  to  people.  As  for  poor  Pickens,  how  could 
he  help  it  that  his  railway  stock  went  up  ?  Should 
he  have  given  it  away?  Even  if  he  is  dishonest, 
there  is  no  reason  why  the  lumber  of  his  house 
should  be  burned  and  the  palaces  of  the  other  Nob 
Hill  '  bandits '  left  standing.  The  law  doesn't 
allow  it." 

"Percy  Oglethorpe,  what  do  I  care  about  law? 
Right  is  right.  If  our  laws  are  wrong,  let  us  amend 
them.  Think  of  us  highwaymen  daring  to  pass  laws 
to  prevent  Mr.  Stryne  from  holding  his  meetings ! 
What  do  you  think  of  our  governor?  What  do  you 

think  of  police  so  corrupt  as  to  enforce  them  ?     In- 

88 


THEODOSIA   AS  BONDSMAID 

cendiary  language,  indeed!  Why  don't  they  arrest 
me?  Haven't  I  said  dreadful  things  about  all  of 
them?" 

"  They  don't  arrest  you,  Theo  dear,  because  you 
are  a  beautiful,  blue-eyed  bandit,"  answered  Adele 
Whiting. 

"  That's  just  it.  I  am  a  highwayman.  I  can  do 
anything  I  please  while  that  poor  fellow,  I  am  sure, 
is  starving  in  a  dark,  damp  cell,"  returned  Theodosia, 
swept  into  soft  pity  by  her  own  words. 

"  Must  I  correct  your  poetry  again,  Miss  Peyton  ? 
Really  the  fellow  is  awfully  comfortable  and  jolly 
happy.  I  believe  he  is  to  leave  prison  if  he  can  find 
some  one  to  guarantee  bail.  Oh,  he  will  get  free  in 
a  few  days,  be  quite  easy  on  that  point;  and  when 
he  comes  out,  he  will  make  enough  trouble  to  satisfy 
even  your  exacting  self. " 

"  You  say  Mr.  Stryne  may  be  released  if  one  pays 
money,  mere  money,  mere  dollars,  mere  shares  and 
bonds  and  things  like  that  ?  "  cried  Theodosia. 

"  Yes,  if  one  has  enough  of  them.  His  bail  is 
fixed  rather  high.  It  is  a  trifle  difficult  to  find  a 
Strynite  with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  you  know. " 

"  Ah,  Adele,  Percy,  Prince,  tell  me  how  much  is 
Con.  Virginia  worth?  What  is  the  Comstock quoted 
at  ?  I  have  three  hundred  and  fifty  shares  and  the 

same  of  Con.  Virginia.     Does  any  one  know  their 

89 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

value?  Ninety  thousand  dollars,  and  I  need  ten 
thousand  more.  My  diamonds,  my  rubies,  my  rings, 
ah,  heaven  bless  them !  I  love  them  now.  They  are 
worth  three  times  that.  Now,  come  along,  every- 
body." 

"Whither,  Miss  Peyton?  "  asked  Oglethorpe. 

"I  pray,  Signorina,  where  are  we  going?"  inter- 
rogated Ruspoli,  helplessly. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  There  is  but  one  place  to  go 
and  that  is  to  see  Mr.  Stryne  and  be  his  bondswo- 
man, or  bondsmaid,  or  whatever  is  the  feminine  of 
bondsman,"  answered  Theodosia,  greatly  surprised  at 
their  dulness. 

"  Wait  until  to-morrow,  I  supplicate,  Signorina. 
Talk  with  Colonel  Peyton,"  advised  Ruspoli. 

"  I  couldn't  sleep  a  wink  to-night  if  I  did.  Come 
along." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  Theo  dear,  for  you  are  the 
maddest  darling  in  the  world;  but  I  make  one  de- 
mand, and  that  is  that  you  don't  wear  that  gauze 
frock." 

"  Oh,  it  is  easily  arranged,  Adele,  I  will  put  a 
long,  black  wrap  over  it  all.  Let  us  hurry.  We 
will  fetch  Mr.. Stryne  back  to  dinner," 


90 


Chapter  VIII 
THE   PRINCE   MEETS   THE     SOCIALIST 

[E  rescuing  party  left  the  Peyton  house 
about  six  o'clock  and  walked  down  Cali- 
fornia Street  to  Kearny  Street.  Ruspoli, 
according  to  Theodosia's  arrangement,  escorted  Adele 
Whiting,  while  Oglethorpe  accompanied  her. 

"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  going  with  you,  Miss 
Peyton,  not  that  you  care  a  hang  about  having  me 
along,  but  merely  to  vex  the  other  fellow.  Under 
those  circumstances,  even,  I  am  grateful,"  remarked 
Oglethorpe. 

"  Percy,  you  are  a  nice,  sensible  boy,"  said  Theo- 
dosia.  "  You  are  so  cheerful.  You  never  have 
melodramatics,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  I  like  you 
after  all  better  than  any  one  I  know." 

"  In  other  words,  you  are  quite  indifferent  to  me, 
and  always  will  be,"  said  Oglethorpe. 

Adele  Whiting,  who  was  enraptured  because  she 
was  able  to  pick  up  a  crumb  of  the  Prince's  attention, 
approached  Theodosia  closely  from  behind  and  ap- 
pealed : 

"Theo  dear,  don't  carry  this  practical  joke  any 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

farther.  It  is  becoming  serious.  Ugh !  It  makes 
me  shiver  to  think  of  going  near  that  horrid  jail. 
You  really  do  not  mean  it,  do  you  ?  " 

Ruspoli  added  his  word  of  supplication,  and  Ogle- 
thorpe  persuaded  in  unison  with  the  others. 

"Very  well,  you  robbers,  you  highwaymen,  all 
return  to  your  spoils  and  ill-gotten  gains.  I  go 
alone,  if  necessary.*' 

"  Not  possible,  Signorina,  believe  me." 

"  Of  course,  you  shall  not  go  alone,  Miss  Peyton. 
Not  unless  we  all  drop  dead  this  minute, "  assured 
Percy. 

"  Recollect,  girlie,  we  accompany  you  because  we 
are  willing  to  make  geese  of  ourselves  for  you,  rather 
than  see  you  do  it  alone,"  explained  Miss  Whiting. 

They  were  very  near  the  jail,  which  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  men  and  women  with  tear- 
stained,  grief-worn  faces. 

"  I  was  at  the  savings-bank  bright  and  early  this 
morning,"  moaned  one  old  woman,  "because  I 
thought  my  two  thousand  put  with  some  one  else's 
money  would  help  Mr.  Stryne  out." 

"Me,  too,"  responded  her  neighbor,  Regan,  an 
iron-molder. 

"We  bailed  Mr.  Stryne  out  once,  but  they  put 
him  right  back  in  again,  Mrs.  Magee,  on  more 

charges    of    conspiracy    and    incendiary    language. 

92 


THE  PRINCE  MEETS   THE  SOCIALIST 

Lawyers  kin  do  anything,  lawyers  kin.  When  they 
burn  all  the  law-books  and  hang  all  the  lawyers,  we 
may  have  some  laws  worth  living  under.  Every 
charge  of  conspiracy  and  incendiary  language  against 
Mr.  Stryne  means  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  now  it 
costs  a  triflin'  sum  of  a  hundred  thousand  for  him 
to  see  the  light  of  day." 

"  An'  I  like  you  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Regan,"  answered 
the  woman,  "  how  we  could  have  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  after  all  our  bread  has  been  eat  by  Chinamen. 
It  is  the  Walsinghams,  the  Pickenses,  the  Peytons 
that  has  got  it.  Let  them  come  down  and  bail  him 
out."  This  last  sentence,  loudly  and  distinctly 
uttered,  caused  bitter  laughter. 

Theodosia  stepped  through  the  crowd  hastily  and 
sprang  lightly  up  the  steps.  The  guard  quickly 
admitted  the  party  to  the  waiting-room.  The  young 
girl  asked  her  companions  to  pass  into  the  officer's 
apartment,  for  her  intuition  warned  her  that  it  would 
be  better  to  see  the  socialist  alone. 

She  gave  her  name  to  the  attendant,  who  repeated 
it  to  Stryne.  The  agitator  was  pacing  up  and  down 
his  cell.  He  wore  his  blue  shirt,  a  bandanna  hand- 
kerchief around  his  neck,  and  his  lips  were  com- 
pressed. His  forehead  wrinkled  into  a  heavy  frown 
as  he  heard  the  word  Peyton. 

"Are  you  sure,  guard?      Is  the  name  Peyton? 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Young,  not  bad -looking,  with  infernal  yellow 
curls?" 

"That's  the  lady,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"Tell  her  I  can't  see  her.  Tell  her  I  won't  see 
her.  Do  you  understand,  I  won't  see  her.  Good 
God !  That  settles  it.  She  has  come  with  a  cup  of 
coffee.  I  know  I  shall  never  get  out  of  here  now. 
It  was  not  a  superstition.  It  was  she.  But  for  that 
damnable  doubt,  I  should  not  be  here  this  moment. 
I  won't  see  her." 

Stryne  was  pale  in  the  gloom  of  his  cell  and  he 
imagined  that  he  was  being  strangled  by  a  thick  mass 
of  yellow  curls  tangled  about  his  neck.  He  leaned 
against  the  door  for  an  instant,  and  then  he  said : 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  to  say  to  the  lady,  guard? " 

"That  you  won't  see  her,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"Now,  that  I  reconsider,  I  don't  think  I  would 
use  just  that  language.  Say  to  her :  '  Mr.  Stryne 
presents  his  compliments  to  Miss  Peyton  and  begs 
that  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  she  will  excuse 
him  for  not  appearing.' ' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Now,  what  are  you  going  to  say  to  the  lady, 
guard?" 

"That  you  won't  see  her,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"  Repeat  the  message  I  just  gave  you,  word  for 
word,  please.  '  Mr.  Stryne  presents  his  compliments 

94 


THE  PRINCE  MEETS   THE  SOCIALIST 

to  Miss  Peyton,  and  begs  that  under  the  peculiar 
circumstances  she  will  excuse  him  for  not  appearing. ' 
Be  sure  not  to  forget  a  word." 

The  attendant  bowed,  and,  disappearing  into  the 
waiting-room,  delivered  the  answer.  Theodosia  was 
walking  restlessly  about  the  room,  gazing  at  the  bare 
walls,  when  she  received  it. 

"There  surely  is  some  mistake,"  insisted  she. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Stryne  that  I  am  Miss  Peyton,  Colonel 
Peyton's  daughter,  that  I  must  see  him.  It  is  a  very 
important  matter  to  him.  Do  not  forget — Colonel 
Peyton's  daughter." 

Presently  Stryne  entered  the  apartment,  his  head 
well  poised,  his  coat  buttoned  straight  to  his  chin, 
his  countenance  grave.  He  bowed  with  dignity. 
Theodosia  crossed  the  room,  tears  drowning  the  for- 
get-me-nots in  her  eyes,  and  held  out  her  hand.  A 
sad  smile  which  rent  her  heart  rested  upon  Stry*ie 's 
lips  as  he  said : 

"  You  and  I  choose  strange  meeting-places.  Do 
we  not,  Miss  Peyton?  " 

"  You  mean  that  I  choose  them,  Mr.  Stryne,  but 
you  create  such  extraordinary  occasions." 

At  Stryne's  signal  they  were  seated.  The  social- 
ist waited  to  hear  Theodosia  speak.  Her  big  black 
hat  was  bent  a  trifle  to  one  side,  and  her  yellow  curls 
fell  down  on  her  shoulders.  Her  pink  and  white 

95 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

rounded  face  was  as  troubled  as  happy,  protected 
youth  can  be.  Theodosia  bit  her  lip  and  clenched 
her  fingers  nervously. 

"  I  know,  Mr.  Stryne,  that  you  think  I  am  a 
bandit,  bloated  with  the  blood  of  the  people — it  was 
something  like  that  anyway — but  I'm  not  a  bit  of  it. 
I  believe  in  everything  you  do.  Perhaps  I  am 
horrid,  but  I  can  not  help  it.  I  was  born  of  lazy 
people,  you  see.  If  you  were  descended  from  idlers, 
how  do  you  know  but  you  might  have  been  exactly 
like  me?  I  just  cried  when  you  went  to  prison  last 
night.  It  is  wrong,  very  wrong,  and  you  must  come 
out" 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  that  several  times  to-day,  Miss 
Peyton,  but  I  find  it  rather  difficult,"  said  Stryne 
with  a  smile. 

Quickly  Theodosia  took  from  her  inside  cloak 
pocket  her  mining  stocks  and  all  her  best  jewels. 
She  placed  them  on  the  table,  her  lips  quivering 
with  joy  in  the  act  as  she  cried : 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Stryne,  look  at  all  that.  Now  you  are 
coming  out.  There  are  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
and  more.  I  may  be  a  highwayman,  as  you  tell  me ; 
but  if  I  am,  I  use  my  spoils  to  a  good  purpose.  I 
ask  only  one  favor  of  you  in  return,  and  it  is  that  you 
will  go  home  with  my  friends  and  me  to  dinner." 

Stryne  looked  at  the  packet  lying  on  the  table, 


THE  PRINCE  MEETS    THE  SOCIALIST 

and  then  approached  Theodosia.  "  Miss  Peyton, 
what  can  I  say  to  you  ?  How  can  I  thank  you  ?  such 
a  splendid  woman  as  you  are.  It  makes  one  happy 
to  know  that  a  person  like  you  exists.  What  a  pity 
that  your  generosity  is  to  no  purpose." 

"  Why  of  no  avail,  Mr.  Stryne  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Because  the  officials  are  determined  not  to  re- 
lease me,  Miss  Peyton.  The  conspiracy  law  was 
passed  at  Sacramento  with  that  intention.  If  I 
should  offer  them  your  security,  and  attempt  to  leave 
here,  directly  I  should  be  rearrested  with  a  higher 
bail  demanded." 

"But,  Mr.  Stryne,  I  have  more  bonds.  I  will 
compel  my  father  to  lend  me  all  he  has  to  release 
you.  Now  will  you  come  ?  " 

"  Miss  Peyton,  your  generosity  forces  me  to  tell 
you  the  entire  truth.  Your  purpose  is  so  laudable 
that  I  dislike  to  mar  the  pleasure  it  gives  you,  but  I 
can  accept  nothing  from  Colonel  Peyton ;  more  em- 
phatically still,  nothing  from  you.  When  I  leave 
here  it  must  be  by  my  own  endeavor. " 

Theodosia 's  tears  of  pleasure  turned  into  those  of 
wrath  and  disappointment,  but  she  composed  herself 
for  an  instant  and  asked :  "  Mr.  Stryne,  do  you  really 
mean  what  you  say  ?  Do  you  decline  to  be  free  ?  " 

"  I  refuse,  Miss  Peyton,  as  any  one  must  see,  to 
accept  a  favor  from  a  woman  or  from  Colonel  Peyton." 
7  97 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  It  is  only  a  subterfuge,  Mr.  Stryne.  A  woman, 
indeed !  You  decline  to  allow  me  the  least  pleasure 
from  those  horrid  flaming  jewels  and  those  wretched 
bonds.  I  always  thought  they  were  a  nuisance.  A 
little  while  ago  I  was  so  happy  and  grateful  for  them. 
Now  I  hate  everything  I  own.  It  is  not  fair  of  you 
to  stifle  the  first  unselfish  impulse  I  ever  had  in  my 
life.  You  preach  about  helping  the  poor,  who  are 
ridden  over  by  the  wheels  of  the  carriages  of  the  rich. 
Some  of  us  need  a  little  assistance,  I  think,  and  you 
thwart  my  very  first  effort  at  getting  away  from  my- 
self and  the  evils  of  my  class.  You  might  help  me 
develop  nobility  of  character." 

Stryne  smiled  at  her  tears,  trembling  lips,  di- 
sheveled hair,  and  choking  voice. 

"Miss  Peyton,"  said  he,  "as  if  you  need  my  help. 
As  if  the  sun  were  ever  eclipsed  or  clouded  for 
you.  As  if  from  the  day  of  your  birth  the  world  has 
not  united  to  make  you  in  love  with  life.  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  Satisfy  a  caprice  that  you  will 
forget  to-morrow.  You  see  as  clearly  as  I  that  it  is 
impossible.  My  life,  Miss  Peyton,  is  too  serious  a 
matter  to  upset  for  a  woman's  whim.  I  must  remain 
here." 

An  expression  of  disdainful  enlightenment  came 
into  Theodosia's  eyes  as  she  brushed  the  bonds  and 
jewels  to  the  floor  and  leaned  against  the  table.  "  You 


THE  PRINCE  MEETS   THE  SOCIALIST 

want  to  stay  here,  of  course.  I  understand  now. 
How  simple  I  was !  You  must  laugh  at  my  dulness, 
Mr.  Stryne.  Mr.  Oglethorpe  was  right.  You  want 
to  be  the  persecuted  martyr,  suffering  in  the  cause 
of  the  oppressed.  You  feel  that  every  minute  you 
are  in  prison  endears  you  to  your  men.  I  might 
have  thought  of  that,  but  I  really  believed  in  you. 
Do  what  you  please  with  that  rubbish  on  the  floor. 
I  have  no  use  for  it.  I  shall  never  again  try  to  be 
good.  I  am  going  to  call  my  friends." 

Theodosia  started  toward  the  door  when  Stryne 
sprang  to  her  side  and  said  with  rapid  intensity: 
''Miss  Peyton,  you  must  not  repeat  those  words. 
They  are  untrue,  unjust,  and  you  wrong  me.  Do 
you  not  see  that  you  and  I  are  enemies,  that  we 
must  remain  so  ?  What  would  the  men  who  believe 
in  me  say  were  I  to  allow  Colonel  Peyton  to  be  my 
bondsman  ?  What  would  they  think  of  me  should  I 
accept  your  offer?  Miss  Peyton,  pardon  me,  but 
what  would  I  think  of  myself  if  I  gained  freedom  by 
the  aid  of  a  woman,  especially  the  daughter  of  Colo- 
nel Peyton  ?  The  nobility  of  your  act  lies  in  the 
offer  itself  and  not  in  my  acceptance.  I  am  glad 
you  made  it.  I  think  I  understand  the  lofty  im- 
pulse that  inspired  it.  Be  assured  I  shall  never 
cease  to  thank  you  for  giving  me  such  belief  in 
women.  Yet,  Miss  Peyton,  if  I  should  accept  your 

99 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

kindness,  every  one  of  my  men  who  have  a  faith  in 
me  which  makes  me  tremble,  every  one  would  call 
it  a  bribe  and  me  a  traitor.  Moreover,  they  would 
be  right,  for  I  should  not  be  selling  myself  for  money 
but  to  please  a  beautiful  woman.  You  say  you 
sympathize  with  this  movement?  Are  you  willing 
that  I  and  it  come  to  an  end  for  your  caprice?  " 

Theodosia  dried  her  eyes,  straightened  her  hat, 
and  shook  out  her  curls.  Reluctantly  she  answered, 
"  Is  it  really  so  serious  as  that,  Mr.  Stryne?  " 

"That  is  its  full  gravity,  Miss  Peyton." 

"  But  you  are  very  uncomfortable  in  this  dreadful 
place?" 

"  Am  I  ?  I  do  not  know.  It  is  the  last  thing  I 
think  of.  I  do  not  live  here." 

"  Then  it  is  such  a  disgrace  to  be  in  prison,  even 
if  one  is  in  the  right." 

"  It  is  better  to  be  here,  Miss  Peyton,  than  to  free 
myself  at  the  price  you  ask.  That  would  be  a  dis- 
honor I  could  not  endure." 

"  Shall  you  never,  never  come  out  ?  " 

Stryne  smiled. 

"  Have  no  fear.  Before  a  fortnight  passes,  I  will 
leave  here.  I  do  not  know  the  order  of  my  going, 
but  I  have  a  firm  conviction  of  the  iact. " 

"  When  you  come  away,  Mr.  Stryne,  is  what  you 
said  true  ?  Are  we  to  be  enemies  ?  " 

IOO 


THE  PRINCE  MEETS    THE  SOCIALIST 

"We  are  France  and  Germany,  Miss  Peyton." 

"  But  many  French  and  Germans  are  the  best  of 
friends." 

''They  only  seem  so." 

"  What  a  pity,  Mr.  Stryne,"  said  Theodosia,  sha- 
king her  head  sadly,  and  then  she  added : 

"  May  I  not  call  my  friends  and  present  them  to 
you?  " 

"  You  will  not  think  me  uncivilized  if  I  ask  you  to 
excuse  me. " 

"  Mr.  Stryne,  you  are  determined  that  I  shall  not 
have  one  small  pleasure." 

"  Oh,  as  you  wish,"  said  the  socialist  in  concilia- 
tion, as  Theodosia  bade  Adele  and  the  two  men  to 
enter. 

Oglethorpe  and  Stryne  shook  hands  after  the  Eng- 
lish and  American  fashion.  Ruspoli  and  the  pris- 
oner merely  bowed,  and  in  so  doing  each  seemed  to 
compare  himself  with  the  other.  As  the  Socialist 
greeted  the  Prince,  Stryne's  followers  would  not 
have  recognized  him,  for  he  had  the  ease,  grace,  and 
poise  of  Ruspoli,  with  whom  he  exchanged  a  few 
words  in  his  language. 

Adele  Whiting  and  Oglethorpe  were  too  well-bred 
to  express  their  amusement  at  the  failure  of  Theo- 
dosia's  expedition  as  she  gathered  her  jewels  and 
papers,  but  they  read  it  in  each  other's  glance. 

IOI 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

Ruspoli  alone  was  grave,  and  politely,  studiously 
regarded  Stryne. 

While  they  talked,  Oglethorpe  said  in  an  under- 
tone to  Theodosia :  "  I  told  you  he  has  better  food 
here  than  outside.  He  does  not  underestimate  the 
value  of  imprisonment.  You  could  not  pay  him  to 
leave." 

Theodosia  threw  her  head  back  and  looked  at  him 
between  narrowed  lids.  Percy  was  silenced.  Pres- 
ently there  were  adieux  and  Miss  Peyton  stepped 
back  from  the  others  as  they  were  leaving  to  ask  of 
the  prisoner:  "Tell  me,  Mr.  Stryne,  when  you  are 
allowed  to  depart  from  here,  is  there  to  be  no  truce  ? 
Are  we  to  be  active  enemies?  " 

He  bowed  and  answered,  "  Officially,  Miss  Peyton, 
yes/' 

Theodosia  smiiecL 


IO2 


Chapter  IX 
THE  BIRTH  OF   A   PARTY 

was  not  an  exaggeration  when  Stryne  said 
that  the  interests  ruling  San  Francisco  and 
the  State  believed  that  he  must  be  de- 
tained in  prison.  Many  men  and  women  ventured 
all  they  possessed  to  become  his  bondsmen,  but  no 
sooner  was  he  released  than  he  was  rearrested. 
Finally  his  endeavors  to  free  himself  became  such  a 
mockery  that  he  refused  to  continue  them. 

His  followers  one  evening  held  a  meeting  in  spite 
of  the  law.  The  police  were  hurled  out  headlong, 
but  fortunately  no  one  was  killed.  A  suggestion 
was  made  to  break  down  the  jail,  but  a  conservative 
spirit  ruled.  Stryne,  the  succeeding  day,  sent  a 
message  to  his  supporters,  begging  them  to  discon- 
tinue congregating,  which  could  do  him  no  good, 
and,  without  his  restraint,  might  result  disastrously. 
Meanwhile  public  wrath  was  fomenting  and  grow- 
ing. Lukewarm  followers  of  the  agitator  became 
fanatics.  The  most  indifferent  felt  that  the  man 
was  being  wronged.  Officials  of  the  city,  congratu- 
lating each  other  upon  what  they  considered  a  tri- 

103 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

umph  in  restraining  him  from  speech,  were  singu- 
larly impervious  to  the  words  of  any  but  capitalists, 
and  really  believed  their  acts  popular.  Only  the 
voice  of  the  socialist  from  the  prison  checked  riots, 
anarchy,  bloodshed,  and  civil  war.  San  Francisco 
was  never  so  near  a  reign  of  terror,  and  this  was 
held  back  only  by  the  cause  of  it,  Stryne. 

Heretofore  the  working  men's  clubs  did  little  but 
congregate,  talk,  and  enlist  members.  Nothing  was 
accomplished  by  them  except  the  sowing  of  discon- 
tent. Yet  they  grew  and  waited.  With  nearly 
fifteen  thousand  organized  men  they  were  unable  to 
release  their  prisoner  from  jail. 

An  event  of  seemingly  little  importance  was  the 
death  of  a  State  Senator  in  the  North  Beach  district. 
It  was  necessary  to  choose  a  representative  to  take 
his  place.  A  special  election  was  held.  It  occurred 
at  a  dull  time  of  the  year,  just  when  most  people 
were  leaving  for  the  country.  At  first,  since  the 
district  was  strongly  Republican,  it  was  thought  that 
the  candidate  of  that  party,  who  was  the  son  of  a 
prominent  politician  and  a  recent  college  graduate, 
would  be  elected  without  any  effort.  As  a  matter 
of  form,  the  Democrats  chose  a  young  lawyer  desir- 
ing advertisement,  to  be  slaughtered  at  the  polls. 

Since  Stryne  became  a  figure  in  San  Francisco, 

there  had  been  no  election.     Consequently  he  was 

104 


THE  BIRTH  OF  A  PARTY 


not  considered  a  quantity  to  be  reckoned  with. 
There  was  derision  when  McCann,  the  Irish  union- 
president,  was  nominated  on  the  new  Working  Men's 
ticket. 

The  senatorial  district  was  inhabited  mainly  by 
small  property  owners,  and  the  great  capitalist  felt 
as  secure  as  in  his  own  district.  It  was  held  highly 
amusing  of  the  Working  Men's  party  to  make  its  first 
appearance  in  that  district. 

The  prosperous  were  positive  there  was  no  new 
issue  to  change  the  usual  result  of  election.  It  was 
so  clear  that  the  Republican  was  the  only  respectable 
party,  the  one  working  to  save  the  country  from  the 
proven  disaster  of  Democratic  rule,  that  these  con- 
servative middle-class  people  could  do  nothing  but 
elect  its  candidate  for  the  State  Senate.  Those  with 
the  love  of  battle  in  their  veins  wished  the  contest 
were  not  so  one-sided. 

McCann,  who  was  one  of  the  well-to-do  men  of 
the  district,  made  a  house-to-house  canvass,  speak- 
ing to  small  groups  of  people.  The  Republican  op- 
ponent was  a  little  vexed  when  he  learned  that 
McCann  had  forced  an  issue  into  the  campaign,  and 
that  was  the  incarceration  of  Stryne. 

McCann  laid  aside  State  and  national  issues.  He 
explained  to  his  constituents,  whose  babies  he  had 
kissed  for  years  preparatory  to  his  flight  into  the 

I05 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

world  of  statesmanship,  that  it  was  merely  a  question 
of  whether  they  were  to  vote  for  his  opponent  and 
approve  of  the  imprisonment  of  an  innocent  man,  or 
if  they  intended  to  declare  themselves  in  favor  of 
liberty  of  speech. 

"  Neighbors,  let  me  tell  you,"  shouted  he  one  day, 
in  a  paroxysm  of  eloquence,  "  we  are  a  nice  lot  of 
patriots,  we  are.  Our  ancistors  fought  in  the  Revo- 
lution for  liberty."  (McCann  had  been  in  America 
fifteen  years. ) 

"The  War  of  1812  was  a  warning  to  Great  Britain 
that  we  must  have  all  the  privileges  to  which  any 
great  independent  nation  is  entitled.  Not  many 
years  have  passed  since  we  spilled  the  blood  of  a  mil- 
lion men  that  the  nigger  could  have  the  rights  which 
all  human  beings  are  born  to  enjoy.  After  this 
fighting  for  liberty,  we  lock  up  the  noblest  man  God 
ever  created  for  telling  the  truth  to  a  rascally  lot  of 
thieves  who  set  themselves  up  on  Nob  Hill  so  they 
won't  make  their  eyes  sore  by  looking  at  such  ordi- 
nary folks  as  you  and  me.  What  do  you  think  of  us 
as  patriots  ?  Oughtn't  we  to  go  and  sell  out  or  drown 
ourselves  ? 

"  Now,  neighbors,  you  know  me  and  I  know  you. 
We  are  all  of  us  with  the  under  man  in  the  fight.  My 
opponent  is  a  very  fine  gentleman,  I  believe.  He 

wears  a  plug  hat  and  carries  his  college  diploma  in 

1 06 


THE  BIRTH  OF  A  PAR  TV 


his  pocket.  A  slouch  hat  is  good  enough  for  me,  I 
don't  belong  to  the  plug-hat  brigade,  and  the  only 
diploma  I  have  is  my  union  card.  His  fine  educa- 
tion don't  seem  to  make  him  want  to  help  his  fellow 
men.  He  says  it  is  right  that  Paul  Stryne  should 
have  his  voice  stopped  by  prison  walls.  The  only 
issue  in  the  campaign  is,  Do  you  approve  of  the  party 
that  resorts  to  such  dirty  tricks?  If  you  do,  don't 
vote  for  me.  I  won't  have  your  support.  Choose 
the  man  with  the  stovepipe  hat  and  the  college 
diploma." 

The  Republican  candidate  wailed  against  dema- 
gogs, and  declared  himself  a  man  of  honor,  above 
the  cheap  trick,  the  contemptible  artifice  of  appealing 
to  class  prejudice.  He  called  upon  the  intelligence 
of  his  hearers,  their  interest  in  the  well-being  and 
prosperity  of  the  community.  The  lawyer  declared 
with  emphasis  that  whether  Stryne  was  in  jail  or  not 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  campaign.  He  pitied 
him  for  being  there,  as  he  did  all  law-breakers,  but 
it  was  not  an  issue. 

At  a  meeting  where  he  expected  a  hearty  recep- 
tion, the  Republican  candidate  was  hooted  and  fre- 
quently obliged  to  dodge  potatoes  and  eggs.  He 
went  to  his  managers  in  thorough  disgust,  complain- 
ing that  they  had  told  him  there  was  to  be  no  contest, 

when  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  see  how  he 

107 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

was  to  be  elected.  They  assured  the  political  novice 
that  a  great  deal  of  noise  and  no  votes  are  character- 
istic of  the  demagogs'  campaign. 

When  election  day  approached,  the  newspapers 
accused  Stryne  of  writing  McCann's  speeches  and 
stated  that  the  agitator  was  directing  his  lieutenants' 
campaign  from  his  cell.  They  had  grown  bold  dur- 
ing Stryne's  imprisonment.  For  an  election  without 
an  issue,  it  was  unusually  stormy. 

Five  days  before  the  close  of  the  contest,  the 
Democratic  candidate,  having  secured  all  the  adver- 
tisement he  desired  and  wishing  to  curry  favor  with 
the  working  men,  withdrew  in  favor  of  McCann. 
This  forced  the  first  sign  of  a  break  in  Republican 
confidence.  The  retiring  statesman  was  charged  in 
the  journals  with  having  sold  out  to  Stryne.  Ruling 
influences  in  politics  realized  that  something  must 
be  done  to  prevent  a  stampede  to  McCann.  Their 
candidate  came  into  the  committee-room  two  nights 
before  election  and  threatened  to  withdraw  if  some 
one  was  not  seen  and  Stryne  released  from  prison. 

"  I  might  as  well  give  up,"  said  he ;  "  for  every 
howl  that  fellow  sends  out  from  jail  is  good  for  a 
dozen  votes.  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  fight, 
but  he  makes  the  people  think  so,  which  amounts  to 
the  same  thing.  Have  the  railroad  and  mining  peo- 
ple release  him  the  day  before  election. " 

1 08 


THE  BIRTH  OF  A   PARTY 


•his  occasioned  a  long  parley.  The  active  work- 
ing politicians  were  in  favor  of  granting  the  candi- 
date's request,  but  the  men  representing  the  great 
corporations  combated  it,  for  it  was  a  boon  they 
could  not  concede  without  admitting  weakness. 
They  refused  to  be  cowards.  They  answered  that 
they  would  rather  see  McCann  elected. 

The  election  of  the  Senator  was  of  small  import, 
but  when  it  became  known  that  it  was  a  struggle 
between  the  imprisoned  Stryne  and  the  moneyed  in- 
terests, the  entire  city  and  State  became  interested. 
This  was  to  be  a  test  vote. 

The  working  men's  candidate  closed  his  campaign 
with  a  large  rally;  the  demonstration  was  so  great 
that  it  seemed  every  voting  voice  in  the  city  was 
there  screaming  its  approval  of  McCann.  Election 
day  showed  that  the  district  which  previously  was 
Republican  by  a  majority  of  one  thousand  had 
chosen  Patrick  McCann  State  Senator  by  a  plurality 
of  twelve  hundred.  Until  his  death  he  attributed  his 
election  to  the  charm  of  his  presence,  the  eloquence 
of  his  speech,  and  the  quality  of  his  Americanism. 
He  secretly  hoped  to  go  to  the  national  Senate. 

The  morning  following  McCann's  election  came 
half  a  dozen  offers  from  bondsmen  for  Stryne's  re- 
lease from  prison.  He  accepted  them,  and  again  en- 
deavored to  free  himself. 

109 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

The  socialist  explained  to  his  followers  that  he 
had  no  hesitancy  in  accepting  their  security,  since 
he  came  there  in  his  effort  to  better  their  condition. 
He  walked  from  his  cell  down  the  street  to  his  room 
south  of  Market  Street  unmolested.  There  was  no 
judge  in  San  Francisco  bold  enough  to  issue  a  war- 
rant for  Stryne's  arrest,  for  from  his  cell  he  had  been 
sufficiently  potent  to  direct  the  election  of  a  State 
Senator.  His  prophecy  to  Theodosia  was  fulfilled. 
He  was  free  and  by  his  own  endeavor.  The  work- 
ing men  ceased  to  be  regarded  as  a  mere  hungry  band 
of  the  discontented  and  idle.  They  were  a  political 
party,  the  party  of  the  future,  and  Stryne  was  their 
leader. 


no 


Chapter  X 
THEODOSIA  EXAMINES  HERSELF 

jjROM  the  day  of  Stryne's  release  the  forces 
opposing  him  assumed  a  conciliatory  at- 
titude. It  was  expected  that,  since  he  had 


elected  a  State  Senator,  from  that  time  forward  he 
would  take  a  more  active  part  in  politics.  He  him- 
self said  nothing  on  the  subject,  but  it  was  freely 
stated  that  Stryne  was  to  be  the  future  boss  of  San 
Francisco. 

Walsingham  and  Pickens  called  at  his  headquarters 
and  told  him  they  admired  the  force  and  energy  of 
youth,  even  tho  rash.  They  felt  he  was  deserving 
of  assistance  and  so  gave  him  secret  advice,  that 
Eldorado  would  rise  several  points  the  following  day. 
Stryne  was  quite  welcome  to  profit  by  the  informa- 
tion, but  they  trusted  he  would  not  make  it  public. 

The  socialist's  answer  was  that  he  had  no  money ; 
and  even  were  he  sufficiently  fortunate  to  possess  it, 
he  could  not  afford  to  take  the  risk  in  stock  gambling 
while  there  were  so  many  surrounding  him  needing 
food,  shelter,  and  clothing.  The  capitalists  kindly 
pff ered  to  open  an  account  for  him  with  their  brokers, 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

but  he  politely  refused  the  offer.  Colonel  Peyton 
was  the  only  man  of  the  railroad  clique  who  did  not 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Stryne. 

Aspirants  for  small  offices  and  great  alike  sought 
him.  These  harbingers  of  success  ranged  from  em- 
bryotic  assemblymen  to  judges  of  the  supreme  court. 
Even  candidates  of  the  United  States  Senate  were 
not  averse  to  knowing  him  and  expressing  their  good- 
will. 

For  the  first  time  Stryne  moved  out  of  the  limits 
of  the  city  and  he  decided  to  follow  his  fame  into 
the  remote  parts  of  the  State.  Wherever  he  traveled 
he  addressed  large  audiences.  The  poor  and  the 
representatives  of  the  great  financial  interests  alike 
went  to  hear  him.  The  sound  of  his  voice,  the 
glance  of  his  eye,  the  touch  of  his  hand  made  men 
disregard  his  words  and  believe  only  in  him.  He 
was  the  savior  of  them  all,  the  messiah  of  the  labor- 
ing man. 

While  on  his  journey,  Stryne  organized  working 
men's  clubs.  A  campaign  was  not  far  distant,  and 
all  realized  that  he  would  control  nominations  if  not 
elections. 

When  he  returned  from  his  trip  to  the  north  and 
south,  it  was  conservatively  estimated  that  forty 
thousand  voters  were  under  his  influence.  Many 
from  the  Democratic  and  Republican  parties  had 

112 


THEODOSIA   EXAMINES  HERSELF 

joined  him,  but  the  former  gave  him  more  support 
than  the  latter.  There  was  a  very  large  element  of 
the  young,  the  unknown,  the  ambitious,  demagogs, 
dreamers,  students,  men  fresh  from  the  University, 
all  hoping  to  escape  the  tedious  climb  to  success  by 
riding  on  the  great  Stryne  wave.  The  masses  were 
positive  that  at  their  leader's  word  the  legislature, 
mayor,  and  governor  were  to  be  chosen.  The  opu- 
lent feared  that  there  was  serious  cause  for  this 
belief. 

During  the  weeks  of  Stryne's  absence  on  his  tour 
of  the  State,  Theodosia  was  entertaining  different 
sets  of  friends  at  Santa  Cruz.  Ruspoli  passed  his 
time  between  the  summer  resort  and  the  city,  seeing 
very  little  of  Miss  Peyton.  When  he  was  in  town 
Theodosia  received  long  letters  from  him,  imploring 
the  privilege  of  passing  one  afternoon  with  her  at 
her  place  in  the  country.  Once  he  wrote : 

DEAREST  LADY  :  Is  it  friendship,  indifference,  or 
repugnance  you  experience  for  me  ?  I  ask  now,  for 
when  we  meet  I  can  utter  no  question ;  all  my  spirit 
is  so  full  of  you,  so  overcome  by  that  perfume  of 
sweetness  which  stifles  me.  Yet  my  unslakable 
longing  is  to  be  once  more  in  the  presence  of  your 
unquenching  beauty. 

Other  gentlemen  that  I  might  name,  for  whom  you 
are  confessedly  unconcerned,  have  the  daily  privilege 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

of  being  by  your  side.  I  only  am  excluded,  yet 
every  moment,  I  see,  I  feel  only  you,  sweeping  de- 
liciously  over  my  every  fiber,  transporting  me  far 
away  from  earthly  affinities  to  the  infinite  stars, 
where  only  love  lives,  the  true  ideal  supernatural  life. 
And  you  are  so  supremely  dear  that  I  would  not  give 
one  moment  of  this  intoxication  for  all  eternity.  No, 
not  tho  the  time  is  to  come  when  you  will  not 
listen,  and  little  by  little  I  must  wring  the  life  out 
of  my  love.  T  would  almost  pray  you  to  command 
me  to  do  this  now  or  call  me  to  you. 

My  essence,  my  force,  all  my  self  I  have  given  you. 
There  is  not  a  recess  of  my  heart  hidden  from  you, 
not  a  desire  nor  a  heart-beat  but  you  have  felt  it. 
One  should  bestow  all  this  silently,  I  know,  but  I 
am  weak  or  selfish  enough  to  ask  a  moment  in  return. 
I  desire  only  to  see  you  again,  to  rebreathe  that  balsam 
which  inebriates,  that  ineffable  sweetness — you — 
dear  lady.  RUSPOLI. 

What  the  Prince  stated  was  true.  Oglethorpe 
and  Lieutenant  Armstrong  saw  Theodosia  with  ut- 
most freedom.  Of  all  her  admirers  he  only  lived  at 
a  distance  from  her.  When  she  called  him  to  her 
side  it  was  ever  with  an  appearance  of  reluctance. 
He  was  given  cordiality  or  indifference  according  to 
her  mood,  and  directly  exiled  to  San  Francisco  until 
her  temper  changed.  To  be  sure  it  was  only  ninety 
miles;  but  then,  he  argued,  the  tragedy  of  Romeo 

occurred  because  he  was  banished  twenty  from  Juliet 

114 


THEODOSIA   EXAMINES  HERSELF 

When  Theodosia  read  the  Prince's  letter  she  was 
overwhelmed  with  such  a  confusion  of  reasons  for 
her  treatment  of  him  that  she  had  no  inclination  to 
disentangle  them.  At  that  moment  she  brushed  them 
all  aside  and  responded  with  a  little  note  in  Italian, 
asking  him  to  sail  with  them  to  Monterey. 

Later  Miss  Peyton  sat  looking  out  on  a  lavender 
and  grayish-pink  horizon  where  she  might  have  seen 
a  sail  had  she  not  been  endeavoring  to  answer  the 
Prince's  questions  for  herself.  Of  course  she  would 
never  be  sufficiently  absurd  to  reply  to  him. 

Of  all  the  sentiments  felt  for  him,  only  friendship 
contained  serious  consideration.  Theodosia  liked  to 
place  all  her  men,  and  especially  the  Prince,  on  that 
basis.  It  was  so  sensible,  so  prudent,  so  exclusive. 
She  was  the  only  woman  she  knew  who,  after  seeing 
Ruspoli's  eyes,  with  pupil  and  iris  the  same  in  color, 
burning  into  her  own,  would  not  have  given  friend- 
ship notice. 

Finally  it  occurred  to  her  that  friendship  is  essen- 
tially sympathy  of  the  mind,  and  the*  Prince  and  she 
here  were  hardly  in  unison.  Besides  she  knew  as 
well  as  another  that  men  with  eyes  and  guardsmen's 
shoulders  like  Ruspoli  do  not  inspire  friendship 
among  young  women. 

Was  she  in  love  with  him?  No,  of  course  not. 
What  did  she  want  of  him?  She  wished  to  give 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

him  nothing,  but  he  must  give  her  all,  his  mind,  his 
heart,  his  soul.  The  Prince  could  not  marry  her, 
but  if  he  could  ?  The  thought  was  dizzying.  Why  ? 
Because — she  was  a  silly  woman — and  he  was  a 
handsome  man — and  he  could  say,  "  My  cousin,  the 
King." 

When  would  she  be  willing  to  give  him  up?  The 
question  hammered  into  her  ears  and  numbed  her 
brain.  She  answered  to  herself,  he  must  never  leave 
her.  Why?  Vanity.  Every  woman  has  vanity. 
It  is  less  humiliating  than  love,  for  it  is  not  a  sur- 
render of  self.  Why  did  she  see  him  so  rarely? 
Because  she  wished  to  keep  him ;  because,  when  he 
could  not  meet  her,  he  realized  every  second  his 
affection. 

This  answer  satisfied  her  inquisitive  self  until  the 
interrogation  came,  "Is  Theodosia  afraid  of  Rus- 
poli  ?  "  She  laughed  and  was  happy  that  she  did  so, 
for  the  spontaneity  of  her  mirth  proved  the  sugges- 
tion ridiculous. 

"How  very  vain  I  must  be,"  thought  she.  "I 
care  nothing  for  him.  To  be  absolutely  honest,  per- 
haps I  have  a  slight  interest  in  him,  a  caprice  as  for 
Von  Sternberg  and  the  Spanish  priest  and  the  others. 
But  Ruspoli  must  love  me  because  he  does  it  so  well, 
with  such  an  effect  of  newness  and  strangeness.  If 

he  did  not  love  me  I  should  be  unhappy.     It  would 

116 


THEODOSIA  EXAMINES  HERSELF 

be  almost  another  world."  She  felt  that  her  cross- 
examination  was  complete. 

When  the  Prince  arrived  there  was  a  sail  to  Mon- 
terey and  return.  Colonel  Peyton  was  in  charge  of 
the  party.  As  they  were  saying  their  adieux,  Rus- 
poli  bent  over  Theodosia's  hand  and  proved  the  pos- 
sible eloquence  of  a  simple  good  night. 

"  Signorina,  how  shall  I  express  to  you  my  thanks 
for  this  great  pleasure  ?  I  have  been  able  to  look  at 
you  for  twelve  hours  and  you  were  gracious  every 
minute.  You  never  were  so  kind.  I  don't  wish  to 
sleep  to-night  and  forget  it.  Must  I  go  back  to 
San  Francisco  to-morrow? " 

"  As  you  wish,  Prince.  Adele  and  I  are  running 
up  for  a  few  days." 

"  And  you  will  allow  me  to  see  you  four  hours 
more  on  the  train?  Ah,  Signorina,  you  are  too 
charming.  I  realize  how  presumptuous  I  am,  but 
had  you  the  least  idea  in  planning  the  trip  that  we 
might  travel  together?  " 

"How  droll  you  are!  Not  in  the  least,  Prince. 
Adele  and  I  are  merely  going  to  town  to  arrange  the 
dinner  for  Mr.  Stryne  I  promised  you  so  long  ago. 
Whether  we  can  induce  him  to  accept  is  another 
matter,  but  we  have  planned  a  campaign." 

"  You  are  unnecessarily  cruel,  Signorina.     It  was 

to  have  been  such  a  happy  night  for  me.     Must  you 

117 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

always  give  me  pain?  If  some  day  only  you  will 
travel  four  hours  to  please  me.  The  thought  is  too 
delicious  for  realization.  Heaven  is  still  in  the 
skies." 

Theodosia  was  in  a  pink  evening- gown,  and  the 
color  of  the  silk  suffused  her  cheeks  and  shoulders. 
Ruspoli,  with  his  eyes  fixed  always  upon  her,  mark- 
ing the  quiver  of  an  eyelash,  noted  this.  He  breathed 
quickly  and  almost  gasped  the  words : 

"  Signorina,  Theodosia,  given  of  the  gods,  thou 
dost  care.  Some  day  thou  wilt  come.  Yes,  I  see 
it.  Do  not  say  no.  I  love  thee.  Thou  shalt  love 
me.  Dio  mio.  What  a  thought !  What  a  dream  ! 
Love!" 

The  Italian,  quite  pale,  sank  into  a  window-seat, 
the  strong,  slender,  shaking  hands  covering  his  face. 
Theodosia,  with  more  gentleness  than  she  had  ever 
offered  him,  went  to  his  side  and  almost  tenderly 
said,  "  Now  you  must  go,  Prince.  Good-night." 

Ruspoli  arose,  again  bowed  over  her  hand  with 
much  ceremony,  and  answered : 

"  Signorina,  God  does  well  to  keep  some  joys  from 
us,  for  they  kill.  Buona  notte" 

The  next  day  when  the  Prince  called  at  the  Peyton 
house  to  act  as  escort  of  Miss  Peyton  and  Miss 
Whiting  to  San  Francisco,  he  was  told  that  they  had 

arisen  early  and  taken  the  morning  train. 

118 


Chapter  XI 
STALKING  THE  LION 

'RYNE  was  occupied  with  his  plans  for  the 
first  convention  of  the  working  men  who 
were  to  meet  in  August  and  make  nomina- 
tions for  State  and  city  officials.  Every  evening  he 
spoke  on  the  sand-lot  to  increasing  audiences.  After 
each  address  he  held  an  impromptu  reception,  and 
all  who  desired  conversed  with  him.  During  the 
day  he  visited  the  club,  called  on  families  in  need, 
and  made  the  acquaintance  of  every  voter.  His 
memory  became  proverbial,  and  he  recalled  faces 
and  names  with  equal  facility. 

Considerable  time  was  spent  by  him  in  writing 
and  distributing  pamphlets  setting  forth  the  wrongs 
of  the  working  men  in  California  and  the  possible 
cure  for  them.  Republicans  and  Democrats  endeav- 
ored to  counteract  the  effect  of  these  circulars  with 
contradictory  statements. 

Theodosia  realized  that  if  she  wrote  a  note  to 
Stryne,  again  entreating  him  to  be  her  guest,  a  re- 
fusal was  certain.  It  was  equally  impossible  to  at- 
tend the  meetings  on  the  sand-lot  with  any  hope  of 

119 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

conversing  with  him.  She  felt  that  she  must  see 
him  personally,  and  so  she  decided  upon  long  walks 
with  Adele  Whiting  south  of  Market  Street,  near 
his  home. 

Miss  Peyton  never  before  had  arisen  so  early,  but 
eight  o'clock  saw  her  and  Adele  walking  in  most 
unlikely  streets.  The  first  and  second  ventures  were 
fruitless.  The  third  morning,  as  Theodosia  awoke, 
she  said  to  her  companion  : 

"  Adele,  I  have  a  flash,  and  you  know  my  flashes 
come  true.  To-day  we  are  going  to  meet  Paul 
Stryne.  I  feel  it.  I  think  I  shall  wear  my  blue 
cloth  gown  and  my  blue  hat ;  with  my  blue  eyes  we 
shall  make  him  dine  with  us.  Shan't  we,  old  girl  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  in  your  flashes  any  more,  Theo 
dear.  You  had  one  yesterday  morning,  and  we  did 
not  meet  him.  Let  us  sleep  and  not  trouble." 

However,  Theodosia  insisted,  and  within  a  few 
minutes  was  dressed  in  a  dark-blue  princesse  gown, 
then  much  in  vogue,  the  trimming  of  which  consisted 
of  two  rows  of  tiny  buckles  extending  from  her  collar 
to  the  bottom  of  the  skirt.  With  it  she  wore  a  large, 
dark  blue,  heavily  plumed  hat. 

As  Theodosia  went  down  the  California  Street 
hill,  her  white  young  flesh  glowing,  her  large  full 
eyes  blue  as  the  mountain  sky,  her  body  erect  and 

well  poised,  there  was  something  in  the  spring  of  her 

120 


UNIVE 
STALKING    THE  LION 

MM— -MMMMMMMM^BHMMMMMW-PM^HMMMWMMMMMiMMM 

step,  the  unruliness  in  the  fluff  of  her  long  yellow 
curls,  which  reminded  one  of  a  thoroughbred  colt  de- 
bating whether  it  is  better  to  wear  a  bridle  or  run 
away. 

The  morning  air  was  fresh  and  warm,  and  youth 
leaped  in  her  veins.  She  felt  that  suddenly  her  soul 
was  kindled,  and  she  exulted  in  her  strength,  beauty, 
and  the  joy  of  living.  She  desired  to  scream  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  respiration.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  world  which  mattered  to  her  at  that  moment. 
What  did  she  care  whether  or  not  she  met  Stryne,  so 
long  as  she  could  breathe  ? 

The  young  women  passed  his  house  and  he  was 
not  to  be  seen.  They  walked  around  the  block  and 
still  the  socialist  was  not  visible.  The  mind  of  a 
handsome  woman  on  a  beautiful  morning  may  easily 
cloud.  Theodosia  pinched  Adele  Whiting's  arm  and 
forced  a  groan  from  her  when  she  saw  Stryne  de- 
scending the  steps  of  the  cottage  where  he  lodged. 

"  Adele,  isn't  that  some  one  I've  seen  before  ?  I 
think  so.  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"Couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  imagine,  Theo. 
However,  the  face  is  rather  familiar  now  that  I  think 
of  it.  This  is  a  glorious  morning." 

"  Why,  Adele,  isn't  that  Mr.  Stryne  coming  up 
the  street?" 

"  Mr.  Stryne  ?     I  don't  know  him.      Oh,  you  mean 

121 


; 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

Mr.  Stryne,  the  socialist?  Really,  so  it  is.  Who 
would  have  thought  that  we  should  meet  him  here? 
Queer,  isn't  it? "  said  Miss  Whiting. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  we  have  encountered  him,  isn't 
it?  And  we  walked  this  way  so  often  too.  Now  it 
occurs  to  me,  Adele,  I  am  going  to  ask  him  to  din- 
ner. I  have  wanted  to  do  that  for  such  a  long  time. " 

At  this  point  the  ladies  and  Stryne  were  facing 
each  other,  but  he  was  unconscious  of  it,  for  he 
might  have  been  a  somnambulist  from  his  manner  of 
his  staring  vacantly  in  front  of  him.  He  would  have 
passed  without  observing  them  had  not  Miss  Peyton 
called  out : 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Stryne,  this  will  never  do.  You  are 
not  awake.  It  comes  from  too  little  sleep.  Miss 
Whiting  and  I  can  not  let  you  pass  without  good- 
morning." 

Immediately  Paul  stood  uncovered  and  was  greet- 
ing both  of  them,  but  his  eyes  turned  to  Theodosia. 

"You  know,  Miss  Peyton,  I  am  acquainted  with 
so  few  ladies  that  it  never  occurs  to  me  to  look  at 
them.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  they  are  strangers." 

Adele  began :  "  We  were  so  surprised  to  see  you, 
Mr.  Stryne " 

"Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Stryne.  We  are  walking  a 
great  deal  now.  The  doctor  ordered  it."  The  so- 
cialist seemed  surprised.  "  Not  exactly  ordered  it, 


122 


STALKING    THE  LION 


but  he  says  it  is  very  good  for  us,  you  know.  Es- 
pecially morning  walks.  So  we  came  down  south  of 
Market,  for  there  are  fewer  hills,  and  then  one  learns 
the  geography  of  the  town.  So  you  live  here,  Mr. 
Stryne?  Strange  we  never  saw  you  before." 

"  We  meet  now  only  because  I  over-slept. " 

"  It  is  so  good  to  see  you  again,"  said  Theodosia. 
"And  I  hear  such  splendid  things  of  you.  Mr. 
Walsingham  and  Mr.  Pickens  are  quite  champions 
of  yours.  They  say  I  converted  them,  but  I  tell 
them  you  did  it  yourself.  It  is  very  trite  but  very 
true  that  nothing  succeeds  like  success.  Isn't  it, 
Mr.  Stryne?" 

"  Do  you  call  this  success,  Miss  Peyton  ?  I  am 
surprised.  It  is  but  the  seed  of  success.  We  shall 
have  a  harvest,  perhaps,  in  the  future." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  be,  Mr.  Stryne. 
I  love  secrets  and  I  can  keep  them  too.  President, 
dictator,  or  king  ?  Whichever  it  is,  you  must  make 
me  prime  minister,  for  I  was  the  first  to  swear  al- 
legiance." 

"  I  was  not  talking  of  myself,  Miss  Peyton,  but  of 
conditions.  There  are  to  be  improvements  in  our 
laws." 

"Is  that  all?  It  is  stupid.  I'm  not  willing  to 
be  a  milliner  or  dressmaker  that  all  the  poor  peo- 
ple may  become  rich  unless  you  are  to  be  dictator. 

123 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

If  you  are  I  don't  object.  I  should  like  to  see  some- 
thing new  in  history,  and  I  don't  know  any  one  who 
could  turn  things  topsy-turvy  and  make  us  all  mind 
more  charmingly  than  you,  but  I  must  be  Prime 
Minister.  Oh,  it  just  occurs  to  me,  Mr.  Stryne. 
You  made  me  a  promise  when  I  last  saw  you.  I'm 
to  have  a  little  dinner  for  you  and  you  are  to  come." 

"I  promised,  Miss  Peyton?  You  must  be  mis- 
taken. I  could  not  have  forgotten." 

"  Oh,  perhaps  you  are  right,  Mr.  Stryne.  But  you 
will  come,  will  you  not  ?  " 

Adele  walked  on  a  few  paces,  and  Theodosia  and 
the  socialist  were  alone. 

"  Miss  Peyton,  we've  met  but  twice  before,  and 
you  always  come  as  a  temptress.  It  is  not  fair  of 
you  to  take  away  my  belief  in  myself.  My  place  is 
among  men.  There  I  am  afraid  of  none  of  them, 
but  you  seem  to  appear  only  to  show  me  just  how 
weak  I  am." 

"  That  is  merely  a  preliminary  to  a  refusal,  which 
must  not  be  given,  Mr.  Stryne.  Tell  me  frankly 
you  do  not  like  me. " 

The  socialist  looked  at  her. 

"  There  are  some  pleasures  I  can  not  give  myself 
without  being  misunderstood  by  my  supporters.  We 
are  just  entering  upon  a  political  campaign,  our  first. 

What  will  my  men  say  of  my  sincerity  when  they 

124 


STALKING   THE  LION 


hear  I  have  been  your  guest  ?  What  will  you  think 
of  it?  Merely  that  I  have  my  price,  and  it  is  your 
favor.  I  grant,  Miss  Peyton,  that  if  I  am  to  become 
negotiable,  I  choose  that  as  the  estimate  of  my  value. 
Still,  much  as  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  your  kindness 
in  twice  thinking  of  me,  I  must  again  refuse.  This 
only  makes  me  still  more  anxious  to  know  you,  but 
we  are  two  enemies  who  can  not  mess  together." 

"The  world  is  not  so  horrid;  your  men  have  no 
faith  in  you  if  they  object  to  a  simple  little  dinner 
at  my  house.  I  am  not  a  dreadful  octopus ;  I,  too,  am 
a  Strynite,  and  how  can  your  followers  oppose  our 
friendship  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  womanly,  more  noble, 
than  your  offer  to  me  while  I  was  in  prison,  but  this 
dinner — my  friends  would  not  understand  it." 

"  What  would  they  say?  " 

"That  you  are  posing,  Miss  Peyton,  or  that  you 
are  capricious." 

"  Isn't  that  cruel  and  unjust  of  them,  Mr.  Stryne  ?  " 

"  Very.  It  would  make  no  difference  to  you  if  I 
accept  your  invitation.  You  have  your  friends,  your 
position  to  keep  you  from  criticism,  but  I  have  no 
fortune  except  myself.  The  success  or  failure  of 
our  ticket  and  laws  depends  upon  me.  It  is  a  great 
trust  of  which  I  am  the  guardian  and  I  dare  not 
compromise  it." 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  I  beg  you,  Mr.  Stryne,  do  something  that  is  not 
correct  and  in  a  straight  line.  You  are  too  good. 
Please  walk  up  the  street  crookedly.  Please  do  not 
do  your  duty.  There  is  no  fun  in  it.  I  did  it  once 
when  I  went  down  to  the  jail  to  see  you,  and  I  never 
will  again.  No  one  appreciated  my  effort  at  lofti- 
ness— not  even  you,  who  believe  I  am  capricious." 

Theodosia  lowered  her  lids  and  her  lips  trembled. 
On  the  edge  of  her  dark  lashes  quivered  a  crystal 
drop — a  tear. 

"  Miss  Peyton,  I  can  not  endure  this.  When  shall 
I  come  ?  "  said  Stryne,  his  face  contracted  with  pain. 

"  To-morrow  evening  at  seven.  Remember  there 
must  be  no  last-moment  excuses." 

"  I  have  given  my  word,  Miss  Peyton." 


126 


Chapter  XII 
THE  DINNER  TO  STRYNE 

JDELE  Whiting  distributed  her  time  among 
the  houses  of  the  opulent  and  powerful  of 
San  Francisco,  but,  all  things  being  equal, 
she  preferred  living  at  the  Peytons'.  That  worldly 
young  person  was  not  insensible  to  the  fact  that 
theirs  was  the  best  kept  menage  in  the  city;  besides 
Theodosia  was  most  congenial  to  her. 

The  evening  of  the  Stryne  dinner  Miss  Whiting, 
as  usual,  was  ready  to  assist  Miss  Peyton  in  receiv- 
ing her  guests.  Adele's  homage  to  her  friend  was 
easily  given.  Theodosia  did  not  demand  it,  but, 
realizing  it  as  her  due,  accepted  it  with  the  indiffer- 
ence of  an  old  friend. 

Miss  Peyton  would  have  forced  praise  from  a  rival 
in  her  girlish  gown  of  shirred  white  tulle  trimmed 
with  clusters  of  apple  blossoms.  She  wore  the  same 
flower  in  her  hair  and  resembled  a  debutante  more 
than  a  belle  of  several  seasons. 

The  frame  of  her  body  was  fragile,  but  so  well 
covered  with  flesh  that  she  seemed  like  a  large  wo- 
man. The  movement  of  her  head  displayed  no  cords 

127 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

in  her  neck.  Her  arms  had  the  roundness  and  dim- 
ples of  an  infant,  and  the  muscles  were  invisible. 
Her  lips  were  red  like  the  soul  of  the  grape.  Her 
eyes  overflowed  with  life.  The  brilliancy  of  the 
sheen  of  her  mass  of  yellow  hair  held  the  glance. 
She  walked  the  entire  length  of  the  long  room  look- 
ing at  her  train  undulating  behind  her  like  white 
foam,  and  then,  turning  to  Adele,  asked : 

"Do  I  really  look  well  to-night?  Tell  me  the 
truth." 

"  Beautiful,  beautiful,  my  dear,  and  all  the  superla- 
tives. Some  one  has  come,  and  I  am  sure  it  is " 

"  Ruspoli,  of  course.  Let  him  wait.  Tell  me 
again,  am  I  beautiful  this  evening? " 

Another  guest  arrived  at  that  instant,  and  the 
Prince  was  deprived  of  the  few  moments  he  had 
hoped  to  pass  with  his  hostess.  When  he  dined  at 
the  Peytons*  he  was  always  in  advance  of  the  ap- 
pointed hour.  As  he  saluted  his  hostess,  he  said  in 
Italian :  "  Do  you  not  think,  Signorina,  that,  since 
I've  expressed  to  you  so  often  the  repugnance  this 
socialist,  this  Stryne,  inspires  in  me,  I'm  very  ami- 
able to  come  to  meet  him,  where  of  all  places  he 
should  not  be  under  your  roof." 

"  Au  contraire,  Prince,  it  is  very  good  of  me  to  ask 
you,  since  you  were  so  naughty  about  it." 

"  Being  a  lover  and  always  thinking  of  myself,  I 
128 


THE  DINNER    TO  STRYNE 


have  another  reason  for  grief,  Signorina,  tho  I  do  not 
believe  I  can  bring  myself  to  confess  it." 

"Very  well,  do  not  try." 

"You  are  not  curious,  Signorina?" 

"  Not  sufficiently  to  ask." 

"  It  is  this,  Signorina.  Pray,  do  not  think  me  a 
gamin.  Heretofore,  not  that  you  meant  to  confer 
an  honor,  I  suppose,  but  merely  because  I  was  the 
stranger,  you  were  always  kind  enough  to  place  me 
at  your  right.  You  probably  do  not  recollect,  but 
each  time  I  sat  by  your  side  is  burned  into  my 
memory.  This  is  the  first  occasion  when  I  relin- 
quish that  post.  How  can  I  breathe,  Signorina,  and 
see  another  there?  I  am  a  trifle  difficile  even  in  my 
rivals.  If  it  were  Signer  Armstrong,  Signor  Ogle- 
thorpe,  or  any  of  your  other  friends,  I  should  be 
sufficiently  pained,  but  I  can  not  suffer  that  a  man 
take  my  place  whom  I  could  not  meet  on  the  field  of 
honor." 

"  The  man  whom  I  think  worthy  to  sit  by  my  side 
is  fit  to  meet  you,  Prince,  even  in  a  duel." 

"Pardon,"  humbly  replied  Ruspoli;  "on  your  ac- 
count I  would  gladly  meet  Signor  Stryne  on  whatever 
field  he  might  elect. " 

"  Prince,  don't  be  such  a  fire-eater.  Mr.  Stryne 
and  I  hvae  more  important  persons  to  fight  than  you." 

Armstrong  and  Oglethorpe  arrived  presently  and 
9  I29 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

paid  their  respects  to  Miss  Peyton,  while  Ruspoli 
conversed  with  Miss  Traver.  The  Pickenses  and 
Walsinghams  came  immediately  and  there  was  no 
one  wanting  but  Stryne  himself.  It  was  a  quarter 
after  seven,  and  as  Theodosia  saw  the  clock's  hands, 
she  turned  pale.  Mr.  Pickens,  an  apoplectic,  stout, 
thick- necked  man,  waddled  across  the  room,  and 
bawled  out :  "  Colonel,  I  knew  Theodosia  was  up  to 
one  of  her  pranks.  It  is  a  good  joke  on  us,  ain't  it? 
After  that  night  when  she  stopped  Stryne 's  bonfire 
and  sent  his  beggars  all  flying  down  the  hill,  I  be- 
lieved she  could  do  what  would  stump  any  of  us  men. 
They  never  came  back  again.  But  I  should  have 
known  that  this  was  a  little  too-too  even  for  the  girl. 
We  might  as  well  eat  and  not  wait  for  him  any 
longer.  I  suppose  he  is  down  on  the  sand- lot,  howl- 
ing against  us  and  enjoying  the  joke." 

John  Pickens  owned  as  much  railway  and  mining 
stock  as  any  one  in  the  city,  yet  his  ideas  of  good 
form  in  speech  and  manner  were  only  nebulous. 

"We  shall  wait  for  Mr.  Stryne,  Mr.  Pickens. 
Something  has  detained  him,"  said  Theodosia.  "  But 
I  am  positive  he  will  be  here,  for  I  have  his  word  of 
honor." 

"  Ha,  ha !  little  girl,  you've  got  enough  faith  to 
walk  on  the  water  with.  But  I  know  men  and  I'm 

right  this  time." 

130 


THE  DINNER    TO  STRYNE 


Jessie  Traver,  long  of  chin  and  sallow  of  face,  ap- 
proached and  suggested :  "  You  mustn't  be  too  hard 
on  the  poor  laboring  man,  Mr.  Pickens.  Perhaps  he 
has  only  one  blue  flannel  shirt  and  he  has  to  wait 
until  it  is  washed.  Out  of  honor  to  the  guest,  don't 
you  think  all  you  gentlemen  should  have  worn  colored 
shirts  with  red  bandanna  handkerchiefs  about  your 
necks?  That  is  undoubtedly  the  sand-lot  evening 
dress.  I  put  on  this  socialistic  red  satin  gown  to 
please  Mr.  Stryne." 

Mr.  Pickens  laughed  until  his  neck  grew  crimson  : 
"That's  bully,  Jessie.  You  can  say  the  devilish 
mean  things  better  than  any  one  I  know ;  but,  Lord, 
I  wouldn't  want  to  marry  you.  You  ain't  rosy 
enough,  by  rights,  to  have  thorns  on  your  tongue." 

Adele  Whiting  whispered  to  the  hostess :  "  Theo 
dear,  I'd  rather  he'd  stay  at  home  than  come  with 
a  red  handkerchief  around  his  neck,  but  don't  mind." 

"  Of  course,  I'm  not  minding,  Adele.  Mr.  Stryne 
will  be  here,  and  not  in  a  blue  flannel  shirt." 

"I  am  afraid,  Theo  dear." 

The  butler  announced  Mr.  Stryne  and  all  ceased 
speech  except  Ruspoli  and  Adele  Whiting. 

They  continued  conversation  on  topics  that  did 
not  interest  them.  When  Miss  Peyton  shook  hands 
with  Mr.  Stryne,  she  included  Mr.  Pickens  in  her 
glance.  It  bespoke  victory,  for  the  socialist  wore  a 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

well-fitting  evening  suit  of  European  make  and  an 
immaculate  white  shirt  with  a  tucked  bosom.  His 
garments  were  a  part  of  him  and  he  might  have  been 
appearing  in  them  each  day  of  his  life. 

Evening  clothes  destroy  or  make  a  man,  and  Stryne, 
somewhat  paler  and  thinner  than  formerly,-  was,  next 
to  Ruspoli,  the  handsomest  man  in  the  room. 

The  Pickenses  and  Walsinghams  were  most  cordial 
to  the  socialist.  Every  one  received  him  with  ex- 
cellently counterfeited  friendship,  except  the  Italian, 
who  was  ultra-ceremonious.  As  his  heels  clicked, 
there  was  so  much  stateliness  in  his  bow  that  it  was 
mere  satire.  Stryne  returned  an  exact  imitation  of 
the  Prince's  greeting.  They  might  have  been  reared 
in  the  same  school. 

Jessie  Traver  remarked,  as  she  saw  the  socialist, 
"  I  am  sure  this  will  be  deadly  dull.  I  thought  we 
were  going  to  have  an  experience,  but  Mr.  Stryne  is 
just  like  one  of  us." 

"  Oh  no,  he  is  not,"  said  Oglethorpe.  "  He  is 
only  pretending." 

When  the  party  reached  the  dining-room,  they 
found  apple  blossoms  everywhere,  peering  from  most 
unexpected  spots.  The  damask  itself  was  covered 
with  the  pink  and  white  petals.  Bowls  of  the  flowers 
were  scattered  about  on  the  round  table,  which  was 

lighted  with  cut-glass  candelabra,  decorated  with  pink 

132 


THE  DINNER    TO  STRYNE 


shades.  Overhead  was  an  umbrella  of  the  branches, 
and,  as  the  guests  were  seated,  from  above  floated 
downward  more  of  the  flowers,  as  tho  some  one  had 
shaken  a  tree.  The  perfume  of  spring  filled  the  air, 
and  Miss  Peyton,  her  hair  and  shoulders  covered 
with  the  blossoms,  was  like  a  sprite  of  nature,  her- 
alding the  fleeting  season  of  bloom. 

Ruspoli  took  in  Jessie  Traver,  and  found  himself 
seated  at  his  hostess'  left.  As  soon  as  the  occasion 
presented  itself,  he  turned  to  her,  and  said:  "I'm 
very  happy  not  to  be  quite  exiled,  and  I  thank  you. 
Your  cruelty  is  only  a  caprice,  for  you  might  have 
placed  me  across  the  way." 

The  board  was  too  large  for  general  conversation, 
and,  after  the  guests  resolved  themselves  into  con- 
genial groups,  Mr.  Pickens  called  from  his  seat  oppo- 
site the  socialist :  "  I  suppose  you  know,  Stryne,  you 
had  us  all  nearly  scared  to  death  a  few  months  ago. 
We  were  loaded  up  with  guns  like  forts.  United 
States  is  a  great  country.  So  broad-minded.  Who 
would  have  thought  then  that  we  should  all  be  eating 
with  you  to-night  ?  " 

Walsingham,  a  big,  lean,  angular  man,  with  an 
eagle's  face  and  Uncle  Sam  beard,  who  had  lived 
next  door  to  his  partner,  Pickens,  ever  since  they 
started  their  small  shop  in  Sacramento,  and  had 
never  lost  an  opportunity  to  gibe  him  good-naturedly, 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

added :  "  Pick  was  scared,  Stryne.  There  is  no 
getting  around  that.  His  house  was  filled  with  guards 
and  guns.  He  was  almost  as  afraid  of  the  Win- 
chesters as  he  was  of  you.  Pickens  would  have  ske- 
daddled to  Mexico  with  Belden,  but  he  was  afraid  of 
apoplexy." 

"  If  only  the  Pickenses  and  Walsinghams  could 
learn  not  to  talk  shop,"  groaned  Jessie  Traver  to 
Ruspoli  in  an  undertone.  "  I  suppose  their  grand- 
children will  know  better,  but  they  themselves  will 
never  understand." 

Then  it  was  necessary  for  Miss  Traver  to  explain 
to  the  Italian  the  meaning  of  the  idiom  "talk  shop." 

"How  is  your  ticket  going?"  asked  Pickens. 
"  Have  you  named  all  your  men,  Stryne  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Stryne  and  I  are  not  going  to  tell  you  a 
word  about  it,  Mr.  Pickens.  We  are  diplomats, 
and  if  you  ask  us  any  questions  we  shall  not  answer 
them.  He  will  always  speak  the  truth,  but  in  case 
military  necessity  demands  us  to  tell  lies,  why,  I 
shall  do  so  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  for  Mr. 
Stryne  has  promised  that  I'm  to  be  Prime  Minister 
when  our  party  comes  into  power.  Besides,  Mr. 
Pickens,  I  don't  think  it  a  bit  nice  of  you  to  come  to 
break  bread  with  the  leaders  of  the  Working  Men's 
party  and,  while  drinking  our  own  wine,  try  to  worm 
our  secrets  out  of  us. " 


THE  DINNER    TO  STRYNE 


Theodosia  had  saved  the  socialist  from  making 
any  remarks. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  these  things,  Miss  Peyton," 
answered  Pickens.  "  Who  is  to  handle  the  patronage  ? 
If  you  have  charge  of  that  I  am  going  to  court  you." 

"  No  one  but  merit  is  to  give  out  offices  in  our 
party,  Mr.  Pickens,"  answered  Theodosia,  with  states- 
manlike gravity. 

"  Pshaw  !  That's  all  poppycock.  You  will  never 
win  but  once  if  you  are  going  to  carry  out  that 
scheme.  It  is  only  your  theory,  Miss  Peyton.  I 
understand  human  nature  just  a  mite,  and  Stryne  is 
the  practical  politician  of  the  firm.  He  knows  life  is 
just  brass  tacks  and  there  is  no  use  in  playing  you 
live  in  Utopia." 

"  My  premier,  Miss  Peyton,"  said  Stryne,  bowing 
to  Theodosia  and  then  addressing  Pickens,  "has 
given  you  my  exact  sentiment.  We  think  that  we 
are  to  make  a  revolution  in  politics  in  San  Francisco 
by  using  only  the  merit  system  in  our  nominations 
and  appointments  in  case  we  win.  The  sole  ques- 
tion we  shall  ask  will  be,  'Is  the  candidate  honest  ? 
Is  he  competent  ? '  We  think,  Mr.  Pickens,  that  is 
the  only  way  to  achieve  permanent  success.  You 
seem  to  leave  out  of  consideration  that  after  all  it  is 
the  people  who  vote.  You  can  find  newspapers  to 
voice  your  opinion,  but  it  is  the  unwritten  belief  that 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

decides  the  contest.  We  are  anxious  to  go  before 
them  a  second  time  with  nothing  to  recommend  us 
but  what  we  do. " 

The  railroad  owner  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork 
and  placed  his  fists  on  the  table  as  he  spoke. 

"  Stryne,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  I  like  you.  I 
used  to  think  you  an  infernal  demagog,  but  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  you  believe  all  that  devilish 
rot  you  spout.  You  have  talked  yourself  into  the 
notion.  Now  I  look  at  you  as  merely  misguided,  and 
I  think  with  proper  schooling  you  might  be  all  right. 
We  haven't  got  the  slightest  objection,  Peyton, 
Walsingham,  and  the  rest  of  us  people,  to  your  being 
the  boss  or  manager  of  the  State  if  you  can  be  con- 
verted of  some  of  those  ideas  of  yours.  We've  got 
friends  everywhere  in  power.  The  judges  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  in  particular  always  work  in  harmony 
with  us,  and  the  smaller  officials  don't  oppose  our  in- 
terests. They  are  good  men.  The  thing  for  you 
to  do  is  to  give  up  this  waving  of  red  flag  and 
spouting  on  the  sand- lot.  It's  all  wrong,  threatens 
capital,  gives  us  a  bad  reputation,  and  keeps  up  a 
continuous  muss.  We  have  good  tickets.  Indorse 
either  the  Republican  or  Democratic,  it  makes  no 
difference  which.  They  are  all  our  friends.  Then 
you  can  be  our  political  manager  for  the  rest  of  your 
life.  We  want  a  smart  young  man  like  you." 

136 


THE  DINNER    TO  STRYNE 


"  If  we  were  at  one  of  your  dinners,  Mr.  Pickens, 
you  might  take  it  that  we  were  ready  to  sell  our- 
selves out,"  said  Theodosia.  "  Your  French  cook 
makes  such  a  lovely  mess  of  potage  that  I  would  sell 
my  birthright  at  the  second  course.  But  here  you 
might  at  least  delay  bribing  us  until  coffee." 

"  I've  known  Theodosia  here  ever  since  she  was  a 
day  old,  and  I  like  her  abuse,  Stryne,  because  she's 
so  devilish  clever  in  giving  it  and  yet  never  means  a 
word  of  it." 

"  You  quite  overlook,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Mr.  Pick- 
ens,  that  I  am  powerless  in  the  matter,"  said  the 
socialist.  "  I  am  nothing  myself  but  the  spokesman 
of  forty  thousand  men.  My  strength  lies  in  them. 
They  are  certain  I  am  honest.  Every  one  of  the 
working  men  would  trust  me  with  his  entire  fortune. 
I  am  proud  of  their  friendship,  their  reliance.  Their 
loyalty  is  the  finest  thing  that  has  come  into  my  life. 
I  believe  everything  I  say  for  them.  I  am  one  of 
them,  and  would  no  sooner  betray  them  than  stab  my 
lieutenant.  I  could  not  endorse  a  man  who  at  any 
time  has  shown  sympathy  with  capital  or  corporations. 
I  have  always  thought,  Mr.  Pickens,  how  singularly 
blind  you  men  who  control  the  fortunes  of  California 
are,  that  you  are  not  content  with  decreased  revenue 
and  the  satisfaction  of  the  people." 

"You  are  under  thirty,  I  take  it,  Stryne.      I  don't 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

know  exactly  how  to  make  you  out.  You  ought  long 
ago  to  have  done  with  mental  measles  and  chicken- 
pox.  Some  time  you  will  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for 
all  that  tommyrot  about  the  people.  When  I  was 
nineteen  or  twenty  I  think  I  believed  in  them. 
Don't  have  any  delusions.  A  laboring  man  is  just 
like  you  and  me,  except  we  have  some  intelligence 
and  he  is  weak-minded.  Give  him  five  dollars  a  day 
and  he  wants  ten.  He  never  will  be  satisfied  any 
more  than  I  will.  The  richer  he  gets,  the  more 
exacting  and  unreasonable  he  becomes.  He  has  all 
the  obstinacy  and  wrong-headedness  of  dull  ignor- 
ance. He  is  the  despair  of  the  optimist.  Besides 
he  won't  bathe,  and  until  he  does  there  is  no  hope  for 
him.  A  man  don't  progress  until  he  is  clean." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  just  as  well  to  give  the  poor  fel- 
low a  meal  before  you  bathe  him  ? "  asked  Theo- 
dosia. 

"  No,  bathe  on  an  empty  stomach  always.  Then 
you  won't  have  indigestion.  I  know,  for  I  haven't 
eaten  a  complete  meal  in  twenty  years." 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Pickens  I  can  not  agee  with  you. 
If  I  did  I  should  not  be  the  so-called  leader  of  the 
Working  Men's  party." 

"  It  is  useless  for  the  Strynites  and  the  Nob  Hill 
People  to  argue,  Mr.  Pickens,"  said  Theodosia. 

"  You  make  all  these  statements  about  laborers,  but 

138 


THE  DINNER    TO  STRYNE 


why  don't  you  give  them  a  chance  to  show  the  good 
there  is  in  them,  by  discharging  Chinamen,  raising 
wages,  and  giving  the  unemployed  positions  ? " 

"  Because  if  we  did  that,  there  would  be  nothing 
for  any  of  us,  including  Miss  Anarchist-in-a-Palace 
— but  I  want  to  talk  to  Stryne  of  his  reforms.  You 
can't  do  anything  for  a  lot  of  beasts  of  burden,  my 
boy,  but  drive  them.  Within  a  month  after  election, 
if  you  don't  give  them  all  champagne  and  terrapin, 
they  crucify  you  just  as  sure  as  their  brows  are  low 
and  dull.  Cut  it  all  while  you've  got  a  chance  and 
stick  by  us.  We  have  come  to  stay  just  as  long  as 
gold  has  value." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you  again,  Mr.  Pickens,  in  the 
great  difference  between  the  employee  and  the  em- 
ployer. They  are  both  in  ruts,  but  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten  had  the  rich  man  been  given  the  same  envi- 
ronment as  the  poor  he  would  not  have  thrown  the 
pack  off  his  back.  There  are  granite  men  who  fight 
their  way  out  of  any  hole  to  eminence  in  finance,  but 
more  often  it  is  chance.  Success  develops  the  mind, 
and  most  laborers,  unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken, 
with  the  right  start  and  influence,  could  do  as  well  as 
the  capitalists." 

By  this  time  the  men  were  alone  smoking,  and  the 
argument  continued.  Within  half  an  hour  after  they 
returned  to  the  ladies,  Stryne  arose  to  leave.  Theo- 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

dosia,  accompanying  him  to  the  door  of  the  drawing 
room,  requested :  "  Will  you  not  return  in  thirty 
minutes?  There  are  some  questions  I  should  like  to 
ask  you." 

"  It  will  be  a  pleasure  for  me  to  answer  them,  Miss 
Peyton." 


140 


Chapter  XIII 
THE  VALET  OF  A  GENTLEMAN 

|HE  other  guests  departed  soon  after  Stryne, 
and  Mr.  Pickens  assured  his  hostess  that 
he  was  confident  the  socialist  could  be 
"  brought  round  to  the  right  way  of  thinking."  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  you  cultivate  him,  Theo, "  he  said. 
"  Show  him  a  little  society  and  that  will  fix  him.  I 
wish  you  was  my  girl.  Between  us  I  am  sure  we 
would  win  him  over  and  run  the  State. "  Mr.  Pickens 
was  jubilant  and  red  with  self-satisfaction. 

"  You  know  very  well,  Mr.  Pickens,  that  he  has 
converted  me." 

"  Let  him  think  so,  Theodosia.  It  is  just  as  well. 
Good  night.  You've  got  a  pretty  smart  girl,  Pey- 
ton." 

The  Walsinghams  declared  that  Stryne  was  not 
half  bad.  Ruspoli  was  the  last  to  take  Miss  Pey- 
ton's hand  in  farewell. 

"  I  feel  profoundly  honored  by  the  fact,  Signorina, 
that  you,  the  future  Prime  Minister  of  the  Working 
Man's  party,  addressed  two  words  to  me  this  evening. 

When  President  Stryne  rules  in  America,  he  will  re- 

141 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

quire  a  valet  or  butler.  Will  Signorina,  the  Prime 
Minister,  recommend  me  to  the  great  man's  favor?  " 

Pierced  by  the  bitterness  of  the  Italian,  Theodosia 
cast  her  head  backward  and  held  her  chin  high  as  she 
answered  in  the  same  key,  "  Signorina,  the  future 
Prime  Minister,  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort ;  for  all  of 
her  influence  could  not  cause  Mr.  Stryne  to  see  in 
Prince  Ruspoli  a  man  fit  either  to  be  his  valet  or  his 
butler." 

The  Italian's  eyelids  came  together  like  a  flash  of 
lightning.  He  dropped  her  hand  and  Theodosia  saw 
rage  before  her  as  she  had  never  yet  encountered  it. 
She  realized  that  if  she  had  been  a  man  he  would 
have  struck  her,  and  at  that  moment  as  she  heard 
him  exclaim,  "  Signorina,  I  demand,  I  command  an 
apology  for  this  affront/'  she  wondered  if  her  strength 
could  much  longer  hold  out  against  his.  He  awaited 
no  answer  from  her,  and  only  the  presence  of  the 
guests  kept  her  from  flinging  herself  into  his  arms. 

"What  if  he  knew  that! "  thought  she  in  terror. 
The  Italian  walked  several  times  around  the  block 
unable  to  leave  the  spot  where  the  object  of  his 
wrath  and  love  dwelt.  At  half  after  ten,  in  ascending 
the  hill,  he  saw  Stryne  pass  up  the  steps  of  Colonel 
Peyton's  house  and  enter  without  delay. 

Theodosia  met  the  socialist  in  the  hall,  and  led 

him   into   a  small  white-and-gold   reception    room. 

142 


THE    VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

They  were  seated  opposite  each  other  somewhat 
nervous  at  meeting  at  such  an  unusual  hour.  Miss 
Peyton  began :  "  For  a  person  who  is  as  a  rule  abnor- 
mally normal  I  find  myself  doing  the  queerest  things, 
Mr.  Stryne,  and  it  is  your  fault.  You  are  such  an 
extraordinary  man." 

"  People  who  are  natural  or  sincere,  Miss  Peyton, 
are  always  considered  a  little  odd." 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  asked  you  to  come  back  this 
evening,  Mr.  Stryne?  " 

"I  have  no  idea,  unless  it  was  curiosity." 

"  No.  It  was  interest  in  you  and  your  life  and 
your  ideas.  What  did  you  think  of  the  people  to- 
night?" 

"I  haven't  considered  them,  Miss  Peyton." 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Stryne,  you  will  allow  what  Mr. 
Pickens  said  to  make  no  impression  on  you.  Do  not 
be  influenced  by  him." 

The  socialist  laughed.  "Did  you  imagine  there 
was  anything  new  in  what  he  said,  Miss  Peyton? 
Those  arguments  are  as  old  as  the  pyramids.  It  is 
useless  to  answer  them." 

"I'm  happy  you  are  so  strong,  Mr.  Stryne.  I'm 
proud  of  you.  What  a  wretch  Mr.  Pickens  is !  My 
father  is  a  gentleman,  but  Pickens  is  a  horrid  carica- 
ture of  capital — a  bad  man." 

"  Not  a  bad  man,  Miss  Peyton,  merely  selfish,  one- 
H3 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND,  THE  PRINCE 

sided,  uncultivated,  the  victim  of  his  environment, 
a  laborer  in  finance. " 

"I'm  glad  you  are  broad-minded  enough  to  say 
that."  Theodosia  leaned  forward,  her  elbows  on  her 
knees,  holding  her  head  upright :  "  Tell  me,  as  you 
would  answer  your  conscience,  are  you  sincere,  Mr. 
Stryne?" 

He  hesitated,  closed  his  eyes  in  thought.  Then 
his  mouth  formed  into  a  straight  line.  "  The  first 
time  I  ever  saw  you,  Miss  Peyton,  I  could  have  an- 
swered with  certainty.  No  man  could  accomplish 
what  I  have  unless  sincere.  I  was  sincere.  Now  I 
tell  you  candidly,  sometimes  I  do  not  know.  I  am 
like  a  Christian  who  begins  to  doubt,  and  it  hurts 
me." 

"Then  Mr.  Pickens  influenced  you." 

"  No.      You." 

"I?     Why,  I  am  a  Strynite." 

"  Oh,  yes.  In  theory.  You  live  in  luxury,  and 
find  it  interesting  to  say  that,  but  in  reality  every 
feature  of  your  face,  every  curve  to  your  frame,  de- 
mands voluptuous  ease." 

"  Why  should  that  alter  your  opinion  ? "  asked 
Theodosia. 

"  You  make  me  imagine  I  really  want  what  you 
have.  You  cause  me  to  be  discontented.  You  com- 
pel me  to  value  what  you  like.  Ever  since  I  saw 

144 


THE   VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

you,  Miss  Peyton,  I  have  been  at  times  a  hypocrite 
and  it  stung  like  a  first  sin.  I  have  stood  before  my 
men,  reiterating  my  old  belief,  while  your  face  arose 
before  me  telling  me  I  was  insincere.  I  was  a  war- 
rior with  my  right  arm  wounded.  I  have  grown  to 
fear  you,  Miss  Peyton.  I  should  have  continued  to 
refuse  to  know  you,  for  you  have  weakened  my  con- 
fidence in  myself.  When  I  look  at  you,  the  highest 
possible  product  of  civilization  of  the  ninetenth  cen- 
tury, and  the  luxury  by  which  you  are  surrounded, 
you  and  it  are  what  I  desire.  Is  it  strange  that  I 
doubt  myself,  and  at  times  execrate  all  that  keeps  me 
from  you?  " 

It  was  too  soon.  Theodosia  preferred  Stryne  as  a 
hero.  Nevertheless,  her  eyes  much  softened,  ex- 
tending her  hand,  she  said  to  him,  "  But  I  believe  in 
you  so  absolutely,  Mr.  Stryne.  You  must  have  faith 
in  yourself." 

"That  is  my  only  recompense,  Miss  Peyton.  I 
feel,  since  I  have  become  weaker,  I  am  dependent 
upon  your  faith.  Good  God,  to  rely  upon  a  woman ! 
Isn't  it  pitiful  ?  No,  I  will  not.  I  must  have  my 
own  power.  You  must  give  it  back  to  me,  Miss 
Peyton.  Promise  that  you  will  never  speak  to  me 
when  we  meet  again.  I  have  the  force  not  to  seek 
you,  but  I  can  not  refuse  when  you  ask  me  to  come. 

Observe  me,  the  coward,  begging  temptation  to  flee. 
10  14$ 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

This  was  the  end  I  dreaded  and  feared.  If  ever  man 
was  iron,  if  ever  man  was  rock,  it  was  I.  Oh,  the 
quicksilver  of  sex !  " 

"  You  are  morbid,  Mr.  Stryne;  I  can  not  make  that 
promise,  for  we  are  going  to  be  friends." 

"  Friends !  how  ludicrous !  Make  no  mistake,  Miss 
Peyton.  You  can  inspire  any  other  emotion  but  that. 
No,  we  are  going  to  be  enemies.  I  shall  give  you 
back  your  belief  in  me  and  be  myself." 

Stryne  moved  his  chair  more  closely  to  Theodosia 
and  then  gravely  asked,  his  features  set  with  grim 
determination,  "  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  as  strange 
that  you  know  nothing  of  me?  " 

"Why,  I  do  know  you."     Theodosia  was  startled. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  know  a  man  Paul  Stryne,  at  this 
moment  the  leader  of  the  Working  Men  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, but  you  have  no  knowledge  of  me. " 

"  That  is  true.     Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  God  knows.  I've  asked  him  of  ten  enough  to  tell 
me.  I've  stared  in  the  faces  of  men  and  women  of 
two  continents  begging,  'Are  you  my  father?  are  you 
my  mother  ? '  For  years  every  hour  I  have  studied 
race  characteristics.  I  said  to  myself,  'Does  that  be- 
long to  the  Saxon  or  the  Latin  ? '  I  have  lived  in  so 
many  lands  that  I  have  a  few  of  the  marks  of  each 
nation,  but  no  complete  development.  I  am  still  a 

mystery  to  myself." 

146 


THE   VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

Theodosia  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  pondered. 
Then  she  started  and  said  : 

"Your  name,  Paul  Stryne,  that  should  convey 
something  to  you." 

"That  is  not  my  name." 

Theodosia  was  a  wax  figure  of  astonishment. 
Her  chair  moved  a  bit  from  Stryne. 

"What  is,  then?" 

"  I  can  not  say." 

" Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"  I  stole  it,  Miss  Peyton." 

Smiles  left  the  features  of  Theodosia,  and  alarm 
parted  her  lips.  "  But  you  know  the  beginning  of 
your  life,  your  childhood?  " 

"Yes,  my  childhood.  As  you  understand  it,  I 
had  none;  but,  Miss  Peyton,  I  will  tell  you  about  it. 
It  is  not  a  nice  story,  and  will  place  us  far  apart. 

"  My  earliest  recollection  is  of  going  with  a  heavy, 
sunbrowned  woman  from  house  to  house  and  pleading 
for  food.  Think  of  the  handicap  of  a  soul  scarred 
with  beggary.  I  called  this  woman  mother  in  our 
tongue,  the  language  of  the  Gipsies.  There  were  half 
a  dozen  children  of  us,  my  brothers  and  sisters.  Two 
or  three  men  smoked  all  day  in  the  tents  and  I  did 
not  know  which  was  my  father. 

"  We  never  stopped  long  in  one  place,  but  my  first 
memory  recalls  thickly  settled  New  England.  I  will 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

pass  over  the  hideousness  and  brutality  of  that  daily 
life  and  tell  you  how  I  came  to  leave  it,  for  I  became 
ashamed  of  it,  and  I  awoke.  We  were  encamped 
near  a  suburb  of  New  York,  and  Sunday  I  strolled  into 
the  village.  Perhaps  I  was  eleven  or  twelve,  for  I 
do  not  know  my  age.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  girl 
larger  and  older  than  myself  with  thick  yellow  curls 
about  her  shoulders.  I  have  never  seen  any  like 
them  until  that  night  you  opened  the  door  and  stood 
before  me.  She  was  with  a  servant,  I  fancy,  and 
going  to  church.  I  had  never  entered  a  house  of 
worship,  but  I  followed  her  and  was  detained  by  the 
usher  in  the  back  seat.  The  service  was  quite 
strange  to  me  and  all  I  recollect  was  the  movement 
of  the  yellow  curls  far  down  in  front. 

"  I  waited  until  she  came  out  and  walked  behind 
her  to  her  home,  a  great  big  brick  mansion  in  a 
square  of  trees  and  shrubbery.  I  had  never  realized 
before  that  there  was  anything  particularly  wrong 
with  myself.  I  looked  in  a  shop  window  and  saw  re- 
flected my  shaggy  rough  hair,  my  dirty  face,  and  my 
bare  feet. 

"  Then  I  went  straight  to  the  river  bank  and 
washed  my  body  clean  and  lay  in  the  sun  until  I  was 
dry.  I  had  commenced  to  think  about  myself,  and 
that,  I  take  it,  is  the  beginning  of  improvement. 

Upon  returning  to  the  camp   I  compared  my  own 

148 


THE   VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

features  with  those  of  my  companions.  The  other 
children  of  the  camp  might  have  been  born  of  my 
mother,  but  I  realized  with  a  flash  that  I  was  not  her 
child.  No  man  there  could  possibly  have  been  my 
father.  I  told  them  so,  and  they,  caring  only  for  the 
pittance  I  could  beg  for  them,  were  too  indifferent  to 
deny  it.  I  ran  away." 

Theodosia  was  coldly  interested.  "Mr.  Stryne, 
where  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  walked  for  three  days  to  Trenton,  New  Jersey, 
and  begged  my  food  on  the  way.  When  I  knew  I 
was  beyond  the  reach  of  the  camp  I  found  work  with 
a  doctor,  Paul  Hamilton.  He  allowed  me  to  read 
when  I  had  leisure  and  in  a  short  time  I  devoured 
and  digested  many  good  and  bad  books.  At  last  I 
came  upon  the  life  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  it 
was  the  only  volume  which  ever  kept  me  awake  all 
night.  I  read  it,  feeling  it  beyond  credence.  When 
morning  came,  I  crept  into  Dr.  Hamilton's  office, 
and  asked,  'Is  it  all  true?*  'Yes,'  he  answered. 
'Every  word?'  'Of  course.'  'I'm  so  glad,' said  I. 
'I  was  afraid  it  was  a  novel.'  After  that  I  read  more 
lives  of  Napoleon  and  became  familiar  with  every- 
thing that  history  tells.  I  even  pinched  my  compan- 
ions' ears  as  he  did. 

"  Once  I  was  playing  with  some  boys  of  my  own 

size,  and  we  found  a  vine  bearing  scarlet  and  gold 

149 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

leaves.  I  made  a  crown  of  them,  placed  it  on  my 
head,  and  named  myself  Emperor  of  the  French. 
The  following  day  my  brow  was  swollen  with  a  band 
of  red  flesh.  The  physician  said  that  the  leaves  of 
which  I  wove  the  crown  were  poisonous.  I  became 
ill  from  fever  and  tore  off  the  scarf  of  skin.  That  left 
the  scar  on  my  brow,  the  first  that  ambition  gave  me." 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  exclaimed  Theodosia,  genuinely 
moved. 

"  During  my  sickness  they  told  me  I  called  '  St. 
Helena.'  'To  St.  Helena.'  When  I  recovered  it 
was  as  if  the  delirium  continued,  for  the  word  St. 
Helena  sounded  in  my  ears  from  dawn  till  dusk.  I 
was  determined  to  go  there,  and  I  left  a  message  with 
my  employer,  '  I  have  started  for  St.  Helena.' 

"On  my  way  down  the  streets  of  Trenton,  I 
thought  of  a  name  for  myself.  At  first  I  considered 
Paul  Hamilton,  that  of  my  employer.  Presently  I 
saw  the  name  Stryne  on  a  door-plate.  It  pleased  me, 
for,  like  myself,  it  expressed  nothing.  I  became 
Paul  Stryne.  Why  not  ?  I  must  have  a  beginning. 
God  did  not  give  me  any,  and  was  it  my  fault  that  I 
made  one  for  myself  ?  " 

"  Of  course  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  bear  any  name  you  wish,"  answered  Theodosia; 
"  but  it  is  so  strange  actually  to  know  some  one  who 
has  no  family,  no  name,  no  tradition,  nothing." 


THE    VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

11 1  am  glad  of  it,  Miss  Peyton.  My  existence  has 
been  all  my  own,"  retorted  he  with  an  outburst  of 
determination. 

"  Tell  me,  then  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  My  name,  Paul  Stryne,  gave  me  manhood.  I  had 
a  foundation.  I  did  not  beg;  I  worked,  until  at  last 
I  reached  New  York.  The  first  thing  I  went  down 
to  where  the  ships  docked.  I  wandered  along  the 
great  wharves. 

"  Finally  a  sea-captain  said  to  me,  *  Well,  my  man, 
where  are  you  bound  for  ?  '  'St.  Helena,'  I  an- 
swered. He  did  not  smile.  At  first  I  thought  it  a 
part  of  my  fever  when  he  replied,  'Come  with  us, 
then,  we  pass  St.  Helena. '  Extraordinary  as  it  may 
seem,  no  one  directed  me  to  that  particular  sailing 
vessel.  The  next  day  we  left  New  York.  There  is 
nothing  to  tell  about  the  voyage  except  that  I  read 
and  stole." 

"  Stole,  Mr.  Stryne !     How  horrible ! " 

"  Yes,  I  read  all  the  books  there  were  to  be  had, 
and  I  stole  everything  each  man  knew.  I  recall  a 
hundred  childish  devices  for  making  the  officers  talk. 
I  felt  that  I  had  been  robbed  of  schooling,  and  an 
honest  foundation,  and  so  I  must  not  rest  until  I 
squeezed  dry  the  brains  of  all  the  men.  This  pirat- 
ing of  others'  ideas,  manners,  and  experiences  began 
on  that  ship  and  lasted  the  entire  voyage.  It  is 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

characteristic  of  my  life.  I  have  stolen  everything 
which  came  within  the  grasp  of  my  mind.  I  claim 
the  right,  for  I  was  robbed  of  a  beginning. 

"  We  barely  touched  at  St.  Helena,  but  I  wept  at 
the  sight  of  Longwood.  I  arrived  in  Liverpool,  a 
strange  country,  with  a  new  name,  a  new  life  before 
me.  My  policy  was  to  do  as  little  work  as  I  could 
and  read  as  much  as  possible.  I  asked  nothing 
but  my  board  and  clothes.  Then  I  studied  and  waited 
— for  what  I  could  not  have  told  you.  I  was  un- 
aware that  I  was  industriously  preparing  for  this 
movement  in  San  Francisco,  but  I  had  a  premoni- 
tion that  one  day  I  should  give  out  all  that  I  was 
stowing  away. 

"  I  do  not  recollect  anything  that  I  disdained  to 
learn,  a  little  music,  enough  dancing,  something  about 
art,  fencing,  and  shooting.  I  idled  from  one  country 
to  another,  studying  the  people,  the  languages,  the 
history,  one  day  living  with  socialists,  the  next  I  was 
the  servant  of  a  potentate." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Stryne,  do  not  tell  me  that  you  were 
actually  a  servant,"  exclaimed  she,  making  a  grimace 
of  repugnance. 

"Often,  Miss  Peyton.  What  better  method  is 
there  of  learning  the  intelligence,  the  manner,  and 
secrets  of  the  great  ?  To  the  observing  it  is  an  edu- 
cation/' 

152 


THE   VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

"  But  it  is  not  nice,  it  is  not  respectable." 
"  Recollect,  I  did  not  start  to  tell  you  a  nice 
story,  nor  a  respectable  story,  but  a  true  story.  I 
have  spared  you  and  myself  many  of  the  details.  At 
best  mine  is  but  a  life  built  upon  dregs  and  decay. 
I  had  a  certain  number  of  years  allotted  me,  and  I 
was  already  late  in  the  race.  Should  I  lose  or  should 
I  make  short  cuts  ?  I  made  short  cuts,  for  I  had  as 
much  right  to  win  as  any  one.  Yet  I  was  not  insin- 
cere. I  believed  every  principle  I  expounded  be- 
cause I  knew  it  was  right.  I  have  met  my  kind  in 
all  climes  and  we  are  all  alike.  Other  men  take 
their  thoughts  from  their  beliefs,  but  we  believe  be- 
cause we  think,  and  thought  with  free  action  is 
democracy;  with  fettered  power,  it  is  anarchy. 
After  I  met  you,  Miss  Peyton,  the  river  was  turned  a 
little  from  its  course,  and  sometimes  I  wondered  if  I 
uttered  my  doctrines  because  they  pay,  because  from 
them  and  by  them  I  am  to  build  my  life  and  future. 
Your  cold  eyes,  your  frozen  features,  tell  me  I  was  in 
error.  Now  the  waters  are  back  once  more,  flowing 
straight  to  their  destination  with  a  fury.  I  believe! 
I  believe  again !  I  believe  every  word  I  said." 

The  man's  face  was  quite  pale  as  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  drawing-room,  the  red  scars  standing  out 
like  a  blister.  Theodosia,  motionless  in  her  chair, 
sat  watching  him  as  if  he  were  a  strange  beast. 

J53 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

"  You  are  unnecessarily  emphatic  about  it,  Mr. 
Stryne.  No  one  has  contradicted  you." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Peyton,  but  you  did." 

"When?       How?" 

"  When  you  appeared  in  the  doorway  the  first  night 
I  saw  you,  showing  me  the  startling  contrast  between 
my  life  and  yours.  When  you  came  to  the  prison 
with  your  jewels  and  bonds.  When  you  met  me  in 
your  fresh  young  beauty  on  the  street.  When  I  saw 
you  here  in  your  home  to-night.  What  is  it  you  are 
always  saying  to  me  ?  That  I  don't  believe  my  own 
words,  that  you  are  more  precious  than  they.  Let 
me  assure  you,  I  believe.  I  was  never  so  confident 
of  myself  as  at  this  moment.  You  and  I  were  never 
so  far  apart  as  now." 

Theodosia  arose,  looked  at  Stryne's  agitated,  quiv- 
ering face.  She  was  thrust  from  him  by  a  thousand 
invisible  forces.  Yet  as  if  duty  forced  her,  she 
asked : 

"  Have  I  done  anything  wrong  ?  I  don't  feel 
quite  happy  about  it  all." 

"  No,  Miss  Peyton.     You  have  been  most  kind." 

Stryne  started  to  go  out  into  the  hall.  Theodosia 
seemed  to  think  aloud :  "  It  is  so  strange  to  learn  all 
this,  Mr.  Stryne.  You  were  good  to  tell  me,  but  I 
wish  you  had  not,  I  was  positive  you  are  a  gentle- 


THE    VALET  OF  A    GENTLEMAN 

His  story  produced  the  effect  he  intended,  and  yet 
it  hurt  him  to  see  her  so  cramped  and  limited  by  preju- 
dice. His  success  was  too  complete.  It  would  have 
comforted  him  somewhat  had  she  felt  a  little  sym- 
pathy instead  of  mere  disenchantment. 

"  No,  only  the  valet  of  a  gentleman,"  he  answered. 
"  You  and  I  alone  have  knowledge  of  my  entire  life, 
Miss  Peyton." 

"  And  we  shall  continue  to  have,  also.  I  can  not 
express  to  you,  Mr.  Stryne,  how  much  success  you 
deserve,"  said  she  coldly,  but  still  making  a  pretense 
of  cordiality. 

Stryne  read  from  her  unnatural  manner  that  this 
was  their  farewell,  and  she  wished  him  gone.  It 
gave  him  courage  to  reply  determinedly : 

"  I  merit  none,  I  am  afraid,  but  I  will  have  a  great 
deal." 

As  he  left  the  Peyton  residence  and  swung  open 
the  heavy  iron  gate,  Ruspoli  met  him  and  said : 

"  Buona  seray  Signore" 

Stryne  saluted  without  response. 


Chapter  XIV 
STRYNE'S  DICTATORSHIP 

gTRYNE  had  accurately  estimated  Miss  Pey- 
ton's temperament.  His  confession  dis- 
sipated her  interest  in  him.  She  was 
somewhat  shocked  at  her  own  mercurial  temperament 
which  could  so  quickly  cease  to  consider  the  man 
whose  mind  had  interested  her  more  than  any  other's. 
Theodosia  was  positive,  as  she  gladly  saw  the 
door  close  upon  the  socialist,  that  her  shallow  emo- 
tions approached  heartlessness.  She  did  not  desire 
to  be  selfish,  but  she  feared  she  was,  for  from  her  in- 
fancy the  world  had  done  its  best  to  spoil  her. 

Colonel  Peyton's  daughter  knew  that,  while  she 
might  be  without  heart,  she  possessed  a  sense  of 
humor.  By  the  time  she  reached  her  room,  she  felt 
she  had  been  the  victim  of  a  joke.  She  laughed  heart- 
ily at  herself  because  with  all  her  cleverness  she  had 
not  detected  the  waif,  the  nobody,  the  Gipsy,  and  ad- 
venturer underneath  stolen  dignity. 

Now  that  she  considered  it,  of  course  no  masquer- 
ading gentleman  would  don  a  red  handkerchief,  a 
scarlet-lined  cape,  and  a  huge  felt  hat. 

156 


STRYNE'S  DICTATORSHIP 


What  would  Ruspoli  say?  She  saw  his  eyes 
gleaming  with  repressed  triumph.  She  could  hear 
Adele  and  Percy  Oglethorpe  laughing.  Jessie 
Traver  would  be  so  maliciously  witty  about  it  that  it 
would  pay  for  her  dinners  during  several  seasons.  It 
was  really  funny  and  she  should  have  known  better, 
but  she  charged  it  to  the  account  of  experience. 

Theodosia  was  slightly  contemptuous  of  Stryne. 
Struggling  in  the  fetters  of  her  dead  mother's  mind, 
she  made  the  declaration  to  herself  that  she  did  not 
like  a  man  unless  he  was  a  gentleman.  Then  she 
realized  that,  no  matter  how  dull  Percy  Oglethorpe 
was  and  despite  Ruspoli 's  indolent  indifference  to 
the  great  purposes  of  life,  they  were  more  her  equals 
than  Stryne. 

"  I  should  be  above  all  this,"  she  said.  "  No  doubt 
Mr.  Stryne  deserves  some  credit  because  he  made 
his  way  quite  unassisted,  but  I'm  just  a  common- 
place woman  after  all,  pretending  to  be  better  than 
the  others.  I  am  a  snob,  and  I  can  not  help  it.  I 
never  want  to  see  him  again." 

Immediately  she  thought,  without  even  mention- 
ing Ruspoli 's  name  to  herself,  "How  handsome  he 
was.  At  that  moment  of  his  indignation  he  was  a 
prince.  I  should  not  like  to  see  him  often  like  that." 
Then  she  wrote  him  a  note  of  apology  in  Italian  and 
an  invitation  to  ride  with  her  the  following  morning. 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

At  eight  o'clock  the  next  day  a  messenger  with  a 
huge  bouquet  of  orchids  awoke  her.  Concealed  in 
them  was  a  note  which  closed  with,  "  You  have 
brought  me  back  from  death."  When  he  arrived, 
his  haggard  face  showed  her  that  he  had  not  exagger- 
ated. His  voice  broke  in  the  greeting,  and  then  he 
remained  silent  until  they  reached  the  park,  when  he 
discussed  the  general  topics  of  society.  Neither  of 
them  ever  again  referred  to  their  first  quarrel. 

During  the  remaining  weeks  the  Stryne  movement 
developed  each  day.  Country  papers  of  both  per- 
suasions openly  advocated  the  Working  Men's  party 
as  the  deliverer  of  the  State.  The  city  journals 
were  non-committal  and  thereby  revealed  the  strength 
of  the  new  organization.  All  of  Stryne's  speeches 
were  carefully  reported.  There  was  too  much  talk 
of  him  in  clubs,  saloons,  lodges,  on  the  ferry-boats, 
trains,  and  street  cars  for  them  to  offend  so  large  a 
body  of  men. 

The  New  York  papers  and  periodicals  devoted 
pages  to  his  characteristics,  daily  life,  and  the 
"  sand- lot  "  meetings.  The  London  Times  sent  one 
of  its  best  writers  to  San  Francisco,  and  he  amazed 
England  with  his  account  of  Strynism  in  California. 
The  encyclopedias  gave  the  agitator  several  columns 
of  space. 

From  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  there  was  a  con- 

158 


STRYNE'S  DICTATORSHIP 


viction  that  California  for  many  years  to  come  would 
bow  to  the  will  of  Paul  Stryne.  He  seemed  to  think 
only  of  the  immediate  present  and  the  result  of  the 
elections  in  the  fall.  Theodosia  Peyton  was  in  the 
gallery  of  his  brain  merely  a  blurred  faded  negative. 

Four  hours'  sleep  from  campaigning  sufficed  the 
metallic  force  of  the  man.  Many  of  the  writers 
feared  he  would  collapse  before  the  nominations  took 
place,  but  those  who  looked  at  his  square  chin,  shoul- 
ders, and  neck  knew  that  he  was  a  Titan  of  iron. 
To  be  sure  he  gave  out  daily  a  complete  life's  energy, 
but  there  was  undiscovered,  untouched  power  always 
in  reserve  for  the  day  of  need. 

One  could  feel  and  breathe  his  success  in  walking 
down  the  street.  None  was  so  blindly  prejudiced  as 
to  doubt  it.  Even  those  who  hoped  his  triumph  was 
not  to  be  were  positive  of  it.  The  worship  of  his 
followers  was  at  white  heat.  His  words  had  flamed 
from  his  lips,  igniting  them  all,  and  they  pointed  to 
the  red  scar  on  his  brow  as  the  symbol  of  victory.  It 
was  a  sign  from  heaven. 

Theodosia  was  kinder  to  Ruspoli,  and  in  conse- 
quence of  his  happiness  he  did  not  mention  that  he 
saw  the  agitator  enter  and  leave  her  house  the  even- 
ing of  the  dinner.  Colonel  Peyton  asked  his  daugh- 
ter why  she  abandoned  her  fad  for  socialism  and 
Stryne. 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  about  it,  dearest  old  boy.  We 
always  loathe  our  passions  after  they  are  exhausted." 

The  lawyer  took  several  of  the  girl's  curls  in  his 
hand  and  said,  "  Theodosia,  a  woman  with  hair  like 
that  should  never  make  a  vow,  for  she  will  break  it." 

It  is  only  when  the  results  of  election  are  foregone 
conclusions  that  nominations  are  so  hotly  sought  as 
in  this  campaign  of  Stryne's.  In  his  hands  lay  the 
responsibility  of  naming  the  State  and  city  officials. 
Even  the  choice  of  United  States  Senator  was  to  be 
fixed  by  him.  Throughout  these  weeks  his  quiet, 
his  calm,  his  dignity,  his  poise,  bore  an  excellent  like- 
ness to  greatness.  The  scar  shone  like  a  crown,  for 
Stryne  knew  how  to  rule. 

During  this  period  he  refused  invitations  from  all 
houses  in  San  Francisco  that  one  would  care  to  enter. 
Those  who  had  no  needs  themselves,  desired  some- 
thing for  their  friends.  Perhaps  it  was  a  judgeship 
for  a  lawyer.  It  might  be  an  ambitious  mother 
bringing  her  first-born  to  the  feet  of  Stryne  and 
dedicating  him  seriously  with  tears  and  prayers  to 
the  service  of  his  country  as  a  statesman.  Aspirants 
for  the  mayoralty,  governorship,  and  Supreme  Court 
came  supplicating,  commanding,  or  threatening,  ac- 
cording to  expediency.  Then  there  were  the  great, 
far-reaching  corporations  with  tentacles  on  every 

nugget  and  jewel  in  California.     They  came  using 

1 60 


STXYNE'S  DICTATORSHIP 


diplomacy  and  endeavored  to  persuade  Stryne  that  it 
was  for  the  good  of  the  commonwealth,  the  best  in- 
terests of  the  State,  and  his  own  complete  happiness, 
that  every  position  to  be  given  out  should  be  handed 
over  to  them. 

Stryne  listened  to  the  Walsinghams  as  politely 
as  to  the  McCanns.  His  face  was  quite  impassive, 
and  his  deep-set  gray  eyes  stared  into  the  secret 
caverns  of  their  brains.  He  received  opinions,  asked 
questions  about  their  principles,  affiliations;  then 
answered  that  nothing  as  yet  was  decided,  and  dis- 
missed them.  Undoubtedly  he  was  a  most  irritating 
person  to  control. 

The  chief  of  the  Working  Men's  party  assumed 
somewhat  the  attitude  of  a  general  planning  a  cam- 
paign with  wooden  soldiers.  Often  an  imposing 
cavalryman,  because  of  a  blemish,  was  swept  off  the 
board,  utterly  regardless  of  his  pride.  An  obscure, 
unknown  private  was  raised  to  command  because  his 
manner  and  his  character  pleased  Stryne.  Then 
when  it  seemed  that  all  was  arranged  satisfactorily, 
the  leader  brushed  them  to  the  floor  and  set  them  up 
again  according  to  his  will. 

Diogenes  had  difficulty  in  finding  one  honest  man. 
Frequently  Stryne  groaned  in  his  sleep  at  the  thought 
that  he  must  fill  the  offices  of  the  city  and  State  with 

them.     Where  were  the  Diogenes  of  the  nineteenth 
ii  161 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRIXCE 

century  to  seek  them?  As  he  was  opposing  every 
powerful  interest,  it  was  necessary  that  he  make 
no  mistake.  He  could  not  afford  the  extravagance. 

At  last  the  word  came  to  him  like  the  whisper  of 
inspiration — Youth !  Youth  !  No  gray  hairs  shamed 
by  compromise  with  evil,  wise  with  the  world's  wis- 
dom and  calloused  by  dead  hopes  should  mar  his  suc- 
cess. No,  he  would  choose  Youth,  aflame  with  en- 
thusiasm, Youth  bold  from  ignorance,  Youth  honest 
from  quickening  ideals,  Youth  daring  from  ambition. 
The  sap  of  Youth  should  be  injected  into  the  decay- 
ing politics  of  the  State  and  revive  them. 

So  the  word  went  out  to  the  unknown,  the  obscure, 
that  there  were  great  prizes  for  them,  and  all  Stryne 
demanded  was  that  they  be  honest.  The  day  of  the 
convention  drew  near  and  the  prophets  found  neither 
in  the  sky  nor  on  the  wall  handwriting  telling  of 
the  man  to  be  chosen.  No  one  but  Stryne  knew, 
and  he  was  mute.  It  was  an  exciting  conundrum. 

The  solution  of  the  puzzle  occupied  most  active 
minds  in  the  city,  and  the  day  before  the  nominations 
even  Colonel  Peyton's  household  was  interested 
therein.  For  a  time  Stryne  had  been  merely  an  im- 
postor, an  adventurer  to  Theodosia.  She  felt  that 
he  had  no  business  to  endeavor  to  act  like  a  gentle- 
man. Presently  this  feeling  faded  into  utter  indiffer- 
ence. She  took  up  amusement  and  he  passed  into 

162 


STXYNE'S  DICTATORSHIP 


oblivion.  When  the  great  wave  of  his  popularity 
swept  over  the  State,  she  suddenly  recollected  that 
she  had  known  him.  She  despised  herself  as  she  men- 
tioned the  fact  with  a  certain  degree  of  pride  to  some 
visitors  who  inquired  concerning  him. 

Once,  while  driving,  she  passed  the  sand-lot,  and 
saw  him,  a  bronze  figure  of  power,  enthralling  thou- 
sands, and  she  was  surprised  that  she  still  admired 
him.  During  this  separation  she  had  imagined  that 
if  she  were  again  to  see  him,  he  would  resemble 
nothing  but  a  mountebank;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  she 
knew  of  his  past,  he  looked  like  a  gentleman.  What 
a  pity  that  he  was  not ! 

The  great  day  neared  and  the  city  and  State  were 
prostrate  before  the  socialist.  With  pleasure  Theo- 
dosia  recalled  his  words  to  her.  She  felt  that  this 
vast  multitude  was  kneeling  before  her,  for  she  might 
have  made  him  love  her  had  she  chosen.  At  last 
she  admitted  that  she  could  not  separate  Stryne's 
power  from  him,  any  more  than  a  man  can  dis- 
tinguish between  a  woman's  beauty  and  her  soul. 
He  was  no  longer  an  adventurer.  He  had  become 
as  great  as  the  might  which  the  people  accorded 
him. 

The  day  before  the  nomination,  Theodosia  dis- 
cussed with  some  friends  and  her  father  the  probable 
results  of  the  meeting  of  the  delegates. 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  convention.  I  think  I  shall 
go  to  the  Working  Men's  to-morrow/'  said  she. 

"  I  fancied  you  were  tired  of  socialism,  Theo- 
dosia,"  remarked  Colonel  Peyton. 

"  Miss  Peyton,  I  rather  imagine  you  had  chucked 
Stryne,"  said  Oglethorpe. 

"  I  am  merely  interested  in  the  political  conven- 
tion, "  answered  Theodosia. 

"  Stryne  is  the  convention,"  suggested  Adele. 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible,  Signorina,"  asked  Rus- 
poli,  "for  a  lady  to  be  interested  in  a  principle?  Is 
that  not  generally  another  name  for  a  person  ?  " 

"  You  understand  Italian  women,  mon  Prince,  but 
nbt  Americans.  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  all  be 
so  distressed  about  my  getting  out  of  my  little  rut 
for  a  few  hours.  I  am  going  to  the  convention." 

"  With  whom  ?  "  asked  Adele. 

"  Daddy  Peyton  !  "  was  the  answer. 

"  No,  Theodosia,  it  would  hardly  be  consistent  for 
me  to  attend." 

"  Then  I  shall  take  you — Adele,  and  Percy,  and — 
Prince  Ruspoli." 


164 


Chapter  XV 
THE  WORKING  MEN'S  CONVENTION 

(HE  delegates  of  the  Working  Men's  party 
assembled  in  the  old  California  Theater, 
and  the  nomination  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance to  be  made  was  that  of  Governor  of  the  State. 
One  half  of  those  present  toiled  with  their  hands. 
The  other,  professional  men,  ambitious  politically, 
merely  came  into  the  party  because  they  were  confi- 
dent it  would  be  successful. 

The  representatives  of  the  Working  Men  with 
whom  Stryne  determined  to  reform  the  political  and 
public  morals  of  California  were  neither  more  honest 
nor  more  intelligent  than  those  occupying  like  posi- 
tions generally  are.  It  was  among  the  young  men 
that  the  hopes  of  the  leader  lay. 

The  theater  was  packed  with  a  mass  of  grim-look- 
ing delegates,  bearing  banners  showing  the  counties 
represented.  In  the  half  daylight  they  were  not 
pleasant  to  look  upon.  A  few  women  were  seated  in 
the  first  balcony,  their,  gay  garments  varying  the 
gloom  of  black  coats.  In  the  upper  right-hand  box 

were  Miss  Peyton  and  her  guests.     The  other  loges 

165 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

were  filled  with  friends  of  the  heads  of  the  Working 
Men's  party.  On  the  stage  were  men  about  to  make 
speeches.  Yet  no  one  cared  to  see  them.  There 
was  a  stretching  of  necks  to  select  Stryne  from 
among  them,  and  several  men  were  designated,  but 
his  friends  knew  that  he  had  not  yet  arrived.  There 
was  no  delay,  and  at  half  after  ten  the  convention 
was  called  to  order  by  the  Chairman. 

Theodosia's  eyes  were  glassy  from  excitement  over 
the  novelty  of  the  experience,  and  even  Adele 
Whiting  was  interested.  She  had  tired  of  most  forms 
of  entertainment.  Theodosia  wore  a  silver-gray 
cloth  gown  and  a  large  hat  with  plumes  falling  away 
from  the  front  backward.  It  was  the  style  that 
suited  her  and  she  realized  it.  She  had  as  a  cor- 
sage bouquet  a  huge  bunch  of  violets  given  her  that 
morning  by  Ruspoli.  They  were  the  only  flowers 
she  wore  during 'the  day. 

Adele  Whiting  said :  "  It  is  strange  Mr.  Stryne 
is  not  here.  Why,  I  expected  to  see  him  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  stage." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Percy  Oglethorpe,  who  was 
making  a  study  of  politics  in  the  United  States. 
"We  can  now  observe  an  illustration  of  the  free 
choice  and  will  of  the  people  uncontrolled  by 
'  bosses. '  Stryne  is  not  here,  Miss  Whiting,  because 

it  is  more  artistic  to  be  absent." 

166 


THE   WORKING  MEN'S   CONVENTION 

"For  my  part,"  remarked  Theodosia,  "  I  do  not 
see  how  Mr.  Stryne  can  control  the  convention  unless 
he  is  present." 

"  He  will  be  absent,  nevertheless,  Miss  Peyton, 
and  nothing  will  occur  against  his  will. " 

The  reading  of  the  platform  was  heard  with  the  in- 
difference which  attends  platforms  both  before  and 
after  election.  Other  routine  work  was  accomplished 
in  the  same  perfunctory  manner.  All  were  waiting 
the  first  nominations.  The  hour  arrived  for  placing 
names  before  the  delegates.  Still  the  opinion  of  the 
convention  was  not  crystallized  as  to  the  possible 
candidate.  Still  Stryne  was  absent. 

Los  Angeles,  in  language  bedecked  with  garlands 
of  the  Southland,  presented  the  name  of  Everett,  who 
was  destined  from  the  cradle  to  rule  the  State.  The 
candidate  was  received  with  violent  enthusiasm  and  he 
doubted  not  that  he  would  be  the  choice  of  the  party. 

Johnston,  of  Sonoma,  was  placed  before  the  dele- 
gates by  one  of  his  admirers,  positive  that  his  aspi- 
rant was  the  man  representing  the  principles  of 
Strynism.  Johnston  had  been  advocating  them  for 
years  and  could  best  carry  out  the  reforms  of  their 
leader.  This  nominee  was  more  warmly  welcomed 
than  the  Los  Angeles  man.  Yet  even  Theodosia 
realized  that  the  right  note  of  enthusiasm  to  sweep 

the  convention  was  not  yet  struck. 

167 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

San  Francisco  nominated  Senator  McCann,  and  all 
wondered  at  the  uproars  of  approval  with  which  his 
name  was  met.  Either  he  was  a  strong  candidate  or 
he  had  friends  with  powerful  throats.  An  old  gray- 
haired  boss,  who  had  lived  his  day  and  now  passed 
his  time  in  attending  conventions,  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  he  won't  do.  South  of  the  Tehachapi  they 
will  slaughter  him.  You  can't  make  those  hard- 
headed,  hard-fisted  Yankees  vote  for  McCann.  His 
name  kills  him." 

San  Bernardino  and  Los  Angeles  put  forth  addi- 
tional budding  Governors,  for  the  southern  part  of 
the  State  furnishes  as  many  office- seekers  as  oranges. 
The  delegates  screeched  themselves  hoarse,  and  each 
man  had  the  appearance  of  being  the  really  only 
desirable  possibility  for  the  position. 

Finally,  Senator  McCann,  amiable,  florid,  and 
smiling,  with  the  fat  of  his  neck  bulging  over  the 
back  of  his  collar  in  wrinkles,  was  recognized  by  the 
chairman.  As  unlike  a  martyr  physically  as  the 
imagination  could  picture,  McCann,  almost  moved  to 
tears  by  the  nobility  of  his  own  sacrifice,  neverthe- 
less announced  that  he  withdrew  his  name  in  favor  of 
Schuyler  Van  Ness. 

Not  a  fifth  of  the  men  knew  the  lawyer  mentioned. 
The  others  had  heard  of  him  as  a  cold,  stern,  just 

young  man  with  sufficient  heritage  to  maintain  the 

1 68 


THE   WORKING  MEN'S  CONVENTION 

most  scrupulous  honesty.  He  was  a  friend  of  Theo- 
dosia,  Adele,  and  one  of  the  eligible  young  men  of 
San  Francisco.  Altho  he  disapproved  of  Stryne's 
violent  methods,  he  felt  that  something  should  be 
done  to  improve  conditions  in  California.  Conse- 
quently in  a  decorous,  well-balanced  manner  he  gave 
his  support  to  Strynism,  the  only  remedy. 

By  birth  and  education  his  sympathies  were  not 
with  the  laboring  classes,  yet  when  McCann  withdrew 
in  favor  of  Van  Ness,  they  heard  the  voice  of  their 
absent  leader  speak.  They  knew  that  Stryne  had 
chosen  Van  Ness  in  spite  of  his  cold  exterior  because 
he  was  honest,  because  he  would  give  them  justice. 
It  was  the  first  signal  in  the  convention  from  their 
leader,  and  then  they  went  wild. 

The  horns,  the  bells,  the  waving  of  flags,  the 
throwing  of  banners  and  hats  into  the  air,  the  cries 
from  the  heart  of  the  rejoicing  savage,  all  were  re- 
served for  this  moment.  Stryne,  by  an  electric  un- 
syllabled  word  had  addressed  them.  It  was  a  time 
for  embraces,  for  tears,  for  huzzas,  for  laughter — for 
anything  he  willed. 

What  did  it  matter  that  Van  Ness  was  a  conserva- 
tive ?  He  was  a  symbol  of  the  Working  Men's  party. 
He  was  honest.  He  believed  in  Stryne.  He  was  the 
man  to  kneel  before.  He  was  to  be  the  next  Gover- 
nor of  California. 

169 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Van  Ness  was  torn  from  his  seat  among  the  dele- 
gates, dragged  over  the  foot- lights,  and  placed  before 
the  convention — a  polite,  frozen,  well-poised  person, 
with  blue  eyes  and  brown,  pointed  beard,  the  last 
man  in  the  world  to  arouse  enthusiasm.  Yet  he 
bore  the  halo  of  Stryne  about  his  head  and  they  were 
blinded  by  it.  They  seemed  to  see  their  leader's 
features  shining  in  the  light  surrounding  Van  Ness. 

The  nominee  for  Governor  could  not  speak.  He 
was  able  only  to  bow.  There  were  cries  of  "  Speech ! " 
but  they  were  drowned  by  the  outburst  of  cheers,  and 
another  pandemonium  reigned. 

Theodosia  waved  her  handkerchief.  Adele  Whit- 
ing applauded.  Ruspoli  was  pale  and  faint  from  the 
excitement.  Oglethorpe  remarked :  "  We  all  like  a 
jolly  good  row,  don't  we  ?  We  don't  care  a  hang 
what  it  is  about  either,  so  long  as  it  is  an  out  and 
outer.  I  am  sure  I  came  to  this  affair  merely  to  ob- 
lige you,  Miss  Peyton,  and  here  I  am  perspiring  as  if 
I  were  a  Working  Man. " 

Van  Ness  signaled  silence  and  no  heed  was  given. 
At  last  the  men  wore  themselves  out  and  still- 
ness came  from  exhaustion.  The  nominee  began 
speaking : 

"  Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen  of  the  convention :  " 

At  this  point  some  one  yelled — "  Who  is  to  be  the 

next  Governor  of  California  ?  "     From  the  throats  of 

170 


THE   WORKING  MEN'S   CONVENTION 

the  great  hardy  men  came  the  mighty  voice — 
"  Schuyler  Van  Ness. "  The  speaker  waited  for  an 
opportunity  to  continue,  and  presently  it  came. 

"  None  of  us,  gentlemen,  has  been  long  in  public 
life  and  so  we  are  not  so  well  known  to  each  other 
as  we  should  be.  However,  we  have  the  same  sym- 
pathies. Your  friend  Stryne  is  my  friend,  the  friend 
of  all  who  believe  the  poor  man  is  as  good  as  the  rich, 
and  should  have  equal  privileges.  It  is  this  bond 
which  will  always  hold  us  together,  will  ever  bind 
those  who  endeavor  to  uplift  humanity. 

"  For  Governor  of  California,  we  need  an  honest 
man,  with  a  spotless  conscience  and  pure  character, 
a  man  of  force,  a  man  of  individuality,  a  man  who 
has  the  ability  to  look  at  the  sun  in  the  morning  and 
know  what  is  best  for  the  State.  Above  all,  we  need 
a  man  of  heart,  a  man  overflowing  with  kindness  and 
genuine  love  for  the  good  of  our  commonwealth." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  audience  became 
restless.  The  men  felt  they  could  no  longer  endure 
this  self-eulogy.  A  delegate  tittered  at  the  word 
"  heart." 

"There  is  but  one  man  of  my  acquaintance,"  went 
on  Van  Ness,  "  who  entirely  fills  my  idea  of  what  a 
Governor  should  be,  who  has  that  nicely  balanced 
sense  of  honesty,  of  right,  of  lofty  purpose.  You 

will  all  agree  with  me,  I  am  convinced,  when  I  tell 

171 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

you  that  it  is  your  friend  and  my  friend,  Paul  Stryne. 
Gentlemen  of  the  convention,  I  resign  whatever 
claims  you  have  bestowed  upon  me  and  place  him  in 
nomination.  Gentlemen,  the  next  Governor  of  Cali- 
fornia, Paul  Stryne ! " 

Theodosia  had  already  seen  enthusiasm,  but  not 
this  wild,  uncontrolled  idolatry  and  man- worship 
which  burst  forth.  It  was  the  cry  of  the  mother  for 
her  child,  the  howl  of  the  beast  for  her  young,  the 
passion  of  a  lover  for  his  mistress  expressed  by  a 
thousand  voices.  All  was  for  Stryne.  Theodosia 
felt  a  chill  that  held  her  frozen.  Her  teeth  chat- 
tered and  the  tears  stole  down  her  cheeks.  Ruspoli, 
from  the  deep  caverns  of  his  dark,  smoldering  eyes, 
gazed  at  her. 

The  leader  was  absent.  They  were  not  inspired 
by  his  face.  They  were  not  impassioned  by  his 
voice.  Yet  his  spirit,  his  personality  stirred  them 
to  the  wildest  excesses  of  emotion.  None  before  had 
realized  the  depths  and  might  of  the  torrent  to  sweep 
them  out  of  reason  into  a  chaos  of  madness.  No 
absinthe  could  have  intoxicated  as  did  the  name  of 
their  hero.  It  was  clear  that  none  but  he  had  ever 
possessed 'a  chance  of  being  Governor. 

Theodosia 's  party  felt  that  the  strain  was  becoming 
too  acute  for  endurance.  It  was  like  endeavoring  to 

retain  reason  in  a  madhouse.     Suddenly  there  was  a 

172 


THE   WORKING  MEN'S  CONVENTION 

great  roar  and  men  leaped  on  the  seats,  sat  on  each 
other's  shoulders,  and  screamed. 

There  was  a  blur  of  towsled  hair,  staring  eyes, 
wide-opened  lips,  and  wax-like  faces.  Stryne  walked 
down  the  center  of  the  stage. 

He  waved  his  hand  and  silenced  them  as  if  using 
a  mighty  wand.  His  countenance  was  severe,  his 
brows  lowered,  and  his  coat  was  buttoned  straight  to 
his  chin.  The  speaker's  voice  had  never  fallen  so 
gently  on  his  followers'  hearing.  Harshness  and  dis- 
sonance were  displaced  by  something  like  tenderness. 

"  Friends,  men  of  San  Francisco  and  the  State  of 
California :  I  am  surprised,  I  am  hurt,  and  yet  I  am 
gratified.  I  am  surprised  that  we  have  been  together 
all  these  months  and  you  do  not  know  me.  How 
many  times  have  I  said  to  each  of  you  publicly  and 
privately  as  well,  that  my  mission  is  here  with  you  as 
one  of  the  active  workers.  I  care  nothing  for  the 
shoulder  straps  and  epaulets  of  life.  They  do  not 
suit  me. 

"  I  am  hurt  that  you,  that  my  friend  Van  Ness, 
have  fancied  even  for  a  second  that  my  labor  in  our 
cause  had  any  other  end  in  view  than  that  of  wiping 
out  evil.  Political  preferment  is  an  honorable  ambi- 
tion; but,  my  friends,  you  must  understand  always 
that  you  can  not  pay  me.  My  hire  is  in  the  doing. 
Schuyler  Van  Ness  is  a  gentleman.  His  integrity 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

can  never  be  questioned.  He  stands  for  everything 
cherished  by  us.  All  of  these  candidates  are  my 
friends,  excellent  citizens,  but  for  this  particular 
occasion  he  seemed  to  be  the  man.  It  was  like  his 
generosity  to  give  way  to  me,  but  this  impulse  must 
be  unheeded.  It  is  my  will  and  I  think  it  is  yours 
and  that  of  the  people  of  the  State,  that  he  be  the 
next  Governor  of  California. 

"  To  say  that  I  am  without  pleasure  in  the  honor 
you  give  me,  would  be  false.  I  am  stirred  by  depths 
of  gratitude  as  when  often  in  the  past  you  showed 
your  loyalty,  your  friendship.  From  my  innermost 
heart  I  thank  you  for  the  honor,  but  I  must  remain 
in  the  ranks  with  you." 

Stryne  bowed  to  the  entire  audience,  from  the 
highest  gallery  to  the  pit.  In  this  movement  he  in- 
cluded the  boxes  and  his  sight  fell  upon  Theodosia 
leaning  over  the  edge  of  her  loge  with  gaze  fixed 
upon  his  face,  her  ears  straining  to  catch  each  word. 
Their  glances  met  and  flashed  recognition,  where- 
upon Theodosia  hurled  quickly  the  bouquet  of  violets 
which  Ruspoli  had  given  her,  at  Stryne's  feet.  He 
picked  it  up,  smiled  grimly,  and  again  bowed  to 
her  box. 

None  but  her  friends  noticed  the  act.  Ruspoli 
arose  from  his  seat,  walked  the  length  of  the  ante- 
room leading  to  the  loge,  and  returned  to  find  Miss 

'74 


THE   WORKING  MEN'S   CONVENTION 

Peyton  oblivious  of  the  presence  of  all  except  Stryne 
and  the  men  surrounding  him,  wringing  his  hands, 
slapping  his  back,  and  shouting  their  approval.  They 
resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  horde  of  Wall  Street 
brokers  when  values  are  rising. 

Finally  the  nomination  of  Van  Ness  was  made 
and  carried.  An  adjournment  being  effected,  Stryne 
was  given  another  ovation  and  reception.  Men  and 
women  crowded  upon  the  stage  to  touch  his  coat, 
to  clasp  his  hand.  When  nearly  all  had  departed, 
Theodosia  and  her  party  appeared.  Her  eyes  were 
still  humid  as  she  walked  quickly  across  the  stage 
ahead  of  her  guests  and  said  to  Stryne,  giving  him 
her  hand:  "I'm  so  proud  of  you,  Mr.  Stryne.  You 
were  splendid.  You  were  superb.  Can  we  never  be 
friends  again?  " 

"  Is  it  you  or  a  caprice  speaking,  Miss  Peyton  ?  " 

«  T    »> 

"  Then  your  question  is  worth  all  the  trouble  it  gave 
me  to  bring  it  about." 

"  You  do  not  mean  you  deliberately  arranged  the 
scene  we  just  saw." 

"  That  is  my  secret.  I  will  only  say  that  I  real- 
ized what  was  going  to  happen  and  why." 

"Why  did  it  occur?" 

"  First,  because  it  was  right,  and  second,  that  a 
Gipsy  might  crown  himself  before  a  lady's  eyes. 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Miss  Peyton,  the  latter  result  alone  remunerated  me 
for  the  struggle.  I  am  prouder  of  that  than  because 
I  refused  the  nomination." 

"  Are  we  to  be  friends  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Peyton,"  said  he  with  unmistakable 
meaning,  as  he  shook  his  head  and  a  smile  curved 
his  lips. 

"  When  will  you  come  to  see  me?  " 

"  When  you  wish,"  answered  Stryne. 


Chapter  XVI 
THE  ARTIST  OF   LOVE 

[HE  evening  following  the  convention  Colo- 
nel Peyton  was  reading  in  his  library,  from 
whose  walls  protraits  of  departed  distin- 
guished Peytons  of  Virginia  looked  calmly  down 
upon  him.  There  was  a  governor,  an  admiral,  a 
general,  and  an  ambassador.  The  sight  of  these  old 
faded  figures  had  sustained  the  family  through  many 
a  crisis,  and  Colonel  Peyton  was  never  quite  for- 
getful of  their  presence. 

At  that  very  moment  Theodosia  was  alone  with 
Ruspoli  in  the  oriental  tapestried  drawing-room. 
Crimson  and  gold  flowers  nodded  their  drowsy  heads 
from  rare  slim-necked  vases.  Lights  shone  through 
the  red  shades  of  heavy  bronze  candelabra.  Incense 
burned  in  an  old  Chinese  urn. 

Theodosia  occupied  a  window  seat  piled  high  with 
cushions.  She  wore  a  simple  black  gown  of  tucked 
net  with  a  silver  girdle  of  large  turquoises.  The 
curls  of  her  hair  clustered  about  her  shoulders  adding 
to  their  beauty.  Her  bare  arms  were  distinctly 
outlined  against  the  black  of  her  gown.  One  foot, 

12  J77 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

the  smallest,  best- shaped  foot  in  the  city,  shod  with 
the  pointed  toe,  high-heeled  tip  of  a  black  velvet 
slipper,  rested  on  a  cushion  lying  upon  the  floor. 
It  seemed  to  be  there  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
show  Ruspoli  its  beautiful  white  self,  gleaming 
through  the  black  silk  gauze  network  of  a  stocking. 
Yet  Theodosia  this  night  looked  but  a  school  girl, 
unconscious  and  ignorant  that  her  foot  was  quite 
near  Ruspoli,  who  half  reclined  upon  cushions  lying 
on  the  carpet. 

When  alone  with  her  the  prince  begged  the  privi- 
lege of  sitting  at  her  feet.  He  was  the  only  man  who 
could  kneel  with  sufficient  grace  to  retain  her 
respect.  When  he  was  in  this  posture,  in  spite  of 
all  her  Americanism  she  forgot  that  he  was  merely 
a  handsome,  graceful,  dark-eyed  pale  Roman  with 
an  indolent  dreaming  mind.  As  he  knelt  before 
her  she  saw  his  well-chiseled,  modern,  aristocratic 
features,  but  behind  him  were  warriors,  diplomats, 
magnificent  princes,  resounding  glories,  powerful 
brains,  and  triumphs  of  history,  the  throne,  Hum- 
bert of  the  White  Hands,  and  Charlemagne.  In  her 
vision  these  great  shades  were  her  supplicating 
lovers.  They  were  a  novelty  worth  guarding. 

Her  blue  eyes  were  looking  straight  toward  and 
miles  beyond  the  end  of  the  room.  Her  cheeks  were 

pink   with   the    excitement   of    the    day.      Ruspoli 

178 


THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE 


watched  her  face  for  several  minutes,  hoping  that 
she  would  notice  him,  but  her  gaze  ignored  his 
presence.  Still  he  looked  up  at  her. 

Finally  he  whispered  as  if  fearing  to  disturb  a 
sleeper : 

"  Signorina !  "     She  heard  him  not. 

His  fists  became  resolute  and  his  teeth  bit  to- 
gether. 

"  Signorina,  I  am  jealous  of  your  thoughts." 
Theodosia  found  the  horizon  interesting. 

"  Signorina,  I  love  thee. " 

Theodosia  remarked,  without  moving  an  eyelash  : 

"I  suppose  you  do,  but  don't  talk  about  it  to- 
night." 

The  Italian  leaned  on  his  elbow,  and,  looking  at 
her  keenly  said :  "  I  am  angry.  You  never  objected 
before." 

"Really?  Well,  it's  quite  time  then.  Love  and 
lovers  are  very  silly — that  is,  if  one  has  anything 
better  to  think  about." 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  say,  Signorina,  to  make  my- 
self worthy  of  consideration.  What  do  you  suggest  ?  " 

Theodosia  looked  at  the  Italian.  "  Cease  being 
a  mere  indolent,  supplicating  lover,  and  work." 

"Ah,  Signorina,  that  is  not  Theodosia,  given  of 
the  gods,  speaking,  but  the  American,  the  Yankee. 
Work?  Why,  it  is  mere  destruction,  death — a  ne- 

'79 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

cessity  for  the  unfortunate.  What  shall  I  do  ?  What 
can  I  do  ?  Everything  that  is  worth  while  was  ac- 
complished long  ago  by  my  countrymen.  You  would 
not  have  me  so  ridiculous  as  to  write  a  poem  when 
Father  Dante  completed  poetry  in  1300?  Would 
you  counsel  me  to  the  impertinence  of  art  after 
Angelo?  Should  I  throw  for  the  fortunes  of  war 
after  our  young  Corsican  Bonaparte  has  made  pyg- 
mies of  all  heroes  of  history  ?  What  is  there  for  me 
to  do  in  a  world  so  finished  ?  All  has  been  perfected 
but  love.  It  is  the  only  incomplete  art  and  it  shall 
be  mine  alone.  Is  it  not  noble  ?  Is  it  not  beauti- 
ful ?  Is  it  not  worth  one's  life  ?  I  have  given  mine 
to  it,  Signorina,  and  at  thy  feet  I  place  it." 

Theodosia  did  not  glance  at  him. 

"  Ah,  Signorina,  I  am  happy  that  I  never  exhausted 
the  life  of  my  soul  in  aught  so  stupid  as  work.  I 
have  drawn  upon  its  blood  for  naught  but  dreams 
which  richened  its  red.  The  song  I  did  not  sing,  the 
picture  I  did  not  paint,  the  poem  I  did  not  write, 
the  battles  I  did  not  fight,  are  in  my  soul's  love  for 
thee,  dearest  lady." 

Theodosia  looked  at  the  Italian  half  reclining  on 
the  rug,  his  eyes  filled  with  ancient  tragedy,  tender- 
ness, and  passion,  his  lips  slightly  parted.  With  a 
gesture  of  the  hand  he  was  about  to  touch  hers. 

Ruspoli  was  undeniably  handsome.  Stryne  possessed 

1 89 


THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE 


only  moments  of  beauty.  Ruspoli  was  a  gentleman. 
Stryne  was  an  adventurer.  Every  thought  of  the 
prince's  existence  was  for  her.  The  socialist  threw 
her  out  of  his  mind  at  will.  Again  the  glory,  his- 
tory, and  triumphs  of  the  heroes  of  the  oldest  reign- 
ing house  in  Europe  trooped  before  her  eyes.  It 
was  pleasant  to  be  loved  by  Ruspoli.  The  fire  of  his 
words  warmed  her  pulses.  She  was  tempted  to  allow 
the  caress,  but  she  drew  her  hand  away. 

The  Prince  sank  back  into  his  place  while  Theo- 
dosia  stirred  in  her  seat  and  returned  his  gaze. 
"  Signorina,  I  pray  thee,  let  me  love  thee.  Dio 
mio!  I  will  teach  thee  love.  Thou  who  hast  lived 
among  restraint  and  Saxon  icebergs,  what  doest 
thou  know?  Nothing.  Yet  it  is  in  thy  sleep- 
ing eyes  and  thy  sleeping  soul  to  feel  all  the  fire 
of  my  race." 

His  glance  fixed  hers  and  held  it.  She  caressed 
him  with  her  eyes.  He  crept  toward  her  and  she 
did  not  repel  him.  "Dearest  Signorina,  thou  must 
love  me.  Dio  mio!  to  hear  thee  say  those  words, 
'Alessandro,  lo  famo*  It  is  too  exquisite.  My 
heart  stops,  clearest  lady,  at  the  thought  of  touching 
thy  hand,  thy  lips." 

He  took  his  eyes  from  hers,  for  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  This  act  shook  her  free  from  his 

glance,  and  she  moved  to  a  corner  of  the  window  seat. 

181 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"Am  I  too  daring,  Signorina?  "  began  he.  "  Canst 
thou  not  love  me?  " 

"No,  Prince." 

"  You  gave  me  your  eyes,  yourself,  a  moment  ago. 
What  did  they  say?  Nothing?  Do  not  hurt  me  by 
evasion.  Honor  me  with  a  direct  answer." 

Theodosia  considered  carefully.  "  I  was  fascinated 
for  the  instant  by  your  magnetism." 

"And  now?" 

Theodosia  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Only  fascinated  ?     This  moment  I  am  nothing  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Signorina,  was  not  that  which  you  call  fascination 
the  beginning  of  love?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  laughed  she. 

"  You  are  indifferent  then  ?  "  The  question  was 
not  worth  a  response.  Theodosia  pursed  up  her  lips 
and  shook  her  head  in  the  affirmative. 

"Then  may  I  ask,  Signorina,  why  you  keep  me 
here?" 

"  I  ?  Keep  you  ?  "  exclaimed  she  naively,  with  a 
series  of  rising  slides. 

"  Yes,  you  keep  me.  You  have  held  me  all  these 
months.  Why  do  you  not  send  me  away  ?  " 

Theodosia  was  eloquent  in  self-defense. 

"Because  you  want  to  stay,  and  I  am  a  kind- 
hearted  person,  too  kind,  almost  weak,  and  I  allow 

182 


THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE 


you  to  remain.      I  think  I  am  very  good  but  you  do 
not  appreciate  it." 

"  There  were  men  who  desired  as  much  as  I  to 
remain.  You  dismissed  them  all.  Why  do  you  not 
send  me  away  ?  " 

Theodosia  attempted  to  frown  her  smooth  white 
brow  in  contemplation.  "  Because  you  speak  Italian 
so  beautifully  and  it  improves  my  accent." 

The  Prince  was  now  at  her  feet,  regarding  her 
with  intense,  half-closed  eyes.  "  That  is  not  an  an- 
swer," said  he.  "  Why  do  you  not  send  me  away?  " 

Theodosia  was  driven  into  a  corner.  "  I  refuse  to 
be  questioned.  I  never  allowed  any  one  to  catechize 
me.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one,  Theodosia  Peyton, 
the  head  of  her  father's  household  for  four  years,  will 
not  permit  cross-examination." 

Her  white  arms  were  folded  across  her  breast. 
The  tangle  of  yellow  curls  were  tossed  over  her  left 
shoulder.  Breath  came  quickly,  and  she  was  tapping 
her  slippered  lace-covered  foot.  Ruspoli  leaned  back 
and  said  decisively :  "  I  have  spent  a  year's  time, 
and  I  have  earned  the  right  again  to  ask — why  don't 
you  send  me  away?  " 

"  Very  well,  I  will  tell  you.     Because  I  like  you. " 

The  Italian  shook  his  head.  "  There  is  no  such 
word  as  like  for  us.  It  can  not  be  spelled  by  you 
and  me.  It  is  love  or  nothing." 

183 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Good.  It  is  nothing.  You  can  never  complain 
of  me  again.  Go !  " 

The  prince  raised  himself  slowly  to  his  feet,  his 
eyes  fixed  sadly  on  Theodosia.  He  walked  to  the 
hall  door  still  regarding  her,  then  bowed.  She  said, 
"  Buona  sera, "  and  picked  up  a  book  of  poems.  Rus- 
poli  looked  at  her  again  and  rushed  quickly  back  to 
her  side. 

"  I  can  not,  Signorina.  You  know  it  as  well  as  I. 
I  have  quite  lost  my  manhood.  I  should  not  have 
waited  for  dismission,  but  my  limbs  and  mind  are 
paralyzed.  They  will  not  obey  me.  My  future,  my 
past,  is  blotted  out.  There  is  just  one  moment  in 
existence.  Despise  me  when  I  tell  you  that  it  is 
this  here  with  you.  You  do  not  love  me  I  see. 
You  could  not  care  and  be  so  cruel,  but  it  does  not 
matter;  I  want  to  remain  and  never  go.  Do  not 
send  me  away  again." 

"  You  silly  boy!  "  said  she,  as  he  nestled  his  head 
among  the  cushions  close  to  her  like  a  punished  child. 
Her  cheeks  almost  touched  his  brow  and  her  fingers 
tingled  to  caress  his  hair  and  comfort  him.  Prudence 
moved  her  too  into  the  corner  of  the  window  seat. 

"  Signorina,  you  are  a  little  happy  that  I  did  not 
go,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"It  is  always   unpleasant  to  separate,"  said  she 

softly. 

184 


THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE 


"  Yes,  and  say  to  me  that  this  separation  would 
have  meant  something  to  you." 

Theodosia  felt  that  the  tone  of  her  voice  was  too 
much  like  his,  so  she  answered  in  a  matter-of-fact 
way: 

"  Must  I  repeat  ?  Parting  is  always  disagreeable 
— a  remark  centuries  old." 

"  Do  not  make  it  so  general.  Let  me  imagine  it 
is  for  me."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  Have  you  been 
happy  to-day,  Signorina  ?  " 

"  Very." 

"  All  that  socialistic  babel  gave  you  pleasure  ?  " 

"A  great  deal." 

"Then  if  you  were  content,  how  could  you  do 
what  you  did  ?  " 

Theodosia  was  genuinely  surprised.  "I  do  not 
understand.  What  was  it?  Pray,  tell  me,  Prince." 

"  You  do  not  recollect  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  had  my  first  experience  in  a  political  con- 
vention." 

"  God  knows  that  was  bad  enough,  Signorina,  and 
it  grieved  me.  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  all  the 
ridiculous,  impractical,  anarchistic  theories  of  Stryne. 
It  was  sufficiently  painful  to  accompany  you,  but 
that  was  not  the  great  humiliation." 

Theodosia  was  curious.     "Which  was?  " 

The  prince  grew  ill  at  ease. 
'85 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  It  was  such  a  small  thing  to  you,  yet  it  meant  so 
much  to  me.  I  have  been  sick  at  heart  all  day 
long." 

"  Why  ?  Because  I  went  ahead  and  spoke  to  Mr. 
Stryne?" 

"  No,"  retorted  he,  his  thick  black  brows  uniting 
in  one  horizontal  line,  "not  that.  This  morning  I 
sent  you  some  violets — nothing  at  all — but  they  were 
for  you,  and  not  for  your  friend  Stryne  or  whatever 
his  name  may  be." 

"  Don't  be  so  ridiculous  as  to  be  jealous,  Prince." 

"  Call  it  anything  you  wish,  but  the  entire  morn- 
ing I  said  under  my  breath,  'She  wears  my  violets. 
I  am  so  joyous.*  Signorina,  it  was  a  hot  iron  in 
my  brain  when  you  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  loge, 
and  from  pure  ecstasy  threw  them  at  Stryne." 

"  I  suppose  it  afforded  you  pleasure,  Prince,  to 
give  me  the  flowers.  If,  however,  they  are  accom- 
panied by  restrictions,  do  not  send  them,  or  if  you 
do,  kindly  write  a  note  and  state  to  what  high,  lofty 
purpose  I  may  dedicate  them." 

"  Pardon,  but  you  understand  as  well  as  I,  Signo- 
rina. You  misinterpret  purposely.  I  may  be  jeal- 
ous; lam  jealous, and  I  have  reason  to  be.  Perhaps 
you  will  call  it  selfishness,  but  I  am  more  jealous  of 
your  honor  than  your  love,  and  any  one  who  touches 

it  must  answer  to  me.     You  will  not  then  see  me 

186 


THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE 


dawdling  at  your  feet,  but  you  will  see  me  as  I  am, 
an  officer,  a  gentleman,  a  man,  and  your  defender." 

"Who  has  touched  my  honor ?"  asked  Theodosia 
with  blanching  face. 

"  Stryne.  I  can  not  suffer  to  see  you  degrade  your- 
self to  a  fellow  like  him,  who  only  repays  you  by 
abusing  your  kindness,  generosity,  and  confidence." 

Ruspoli's  head  was  thrown  back  on  his  shoulders, 
and  his  eyes  were  flaming. 

"  My  confidence  ?  "  asked  Theodosia  in  amaze. 

"Yes,  Signorina." 

"Please  give  statistics,  how,  when,  and  where." 

"  No  gentleman  would  presume  to  enter  the  house 
of  a  lady  at  half  after  ten  and  remain  two  hours  as 
he  did  the  night  of  the  dinner  you  gave  for  him." 

"  He  told  you  that,  Prince?  " 

"No." 

"  Mr.  Stryne  said  so  to  some  one  ?  " 

"  No,  Signorina." 

Then  derision  was  transformed  into  laughter. 
"  Oh,  I  understand  now,"  said  Theodosia  slowly. 
"  You  saw  him." 

"  Yes,  Signorina.  You  know  how  often  I  watched 
the  lights  of  your  boudoir. " 

"  You,  mon  cher  Prince,  were  good  enough  to  wait 
and  play  the  spy.  That  is  pleasant  to  know." 

"  You  comprehend  what  your  honor  means  to  me." 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Theodosia's  lip  curled.  "  Really  I  had  not  ob- 
served before,  but  now  it  is  clear.  We  were  talking 
a  little  while  ago  of  occupations  and  you  disdained 
all.  Let  me  suggest  one  for  you,  mon  cher  Prince — 
be  a  detective.  There  is  fabulous  wealth  in  it  for 
you." 

"  You  insist  upon  being  unjust,  Signorina.  It  was 
only  by  accident  that  I  met  Stryne.  I  expected  him 
to  return  immmediately,  for  I  imagined  he  had  for- 
gotten something.  I  was  presumptuous  enough  to 
be  jealous.  I  passed  two  hours,  my  brain  mad  with 
a  demon's  fancies.  At  last  he  left  you,  and  as  we 
met  I  was  a  murderer.  I  know  your  impulses,  your 
sympathies,  and  so  I  understand  why  you  pardoned 
his  insolence,  but  what  would  the  world  say  ?  " 

Theodosia's  blue  eyes  were  black. 

"  It  will  perhaps  afford  your  sleuth's  mind  relief  to 
know  that  Mr.  Stryne  came  here  at  my  solicitation, 
against  his  wish,  and  he  took  no  liberty." 

"  He  should  have  refused,  Signorina." 

"  Being  merely  a  man  and  not  a  prince,  he  came. 
As  for  what  the  world  says,  has  said,  or  will  say — 
it  will  always  say  nice  things  of  me.  The  Peytons 
compel  it  whether  the  world  wishes  or  not.  Besides, 
you  know  the  world  has  no  detectives  in  its  employ. 
It  is  only  love — love,  understand — that  makes  spies. " 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  Signorina. " 
1 88 


THE  ARTIST  OF  LOVE 


Ruspoli 's  head  bowed.  Theodosia  was  erect  and 
the  tenderness  had  departed  from  her  expression. 

"  Not  one  shall  be  granted,  Prince  Ruspoli.  You 
have  done  the  unpardonable.  I  have  been  very  kind 
to  you.  You  bored  me.  You  were  often  tiresome, 
but  I  have  tolerated  you,  merely  tolerated  you. 
This  is  your  return  after  my  year  of  patience. " 

"  I  do  not  like  to  dispute  with  a  lady,  Signorina. 
I  rarely  do,  but  what  you  say  is  not  true.  Only 
your  anger  is  speaking.  I  forbid  you  to  repeat  those 
words." 

"  You  forbid  me  by  the  order  of  the  King,"  an- 
swered she  in  mockery.  Dio  mio!  That  is  droll. 
I  should  have  said  you  were  ludicrous,  you  were  a 
bore;  now  I  dislike  you,  I  detest  you,  I  hate  you." 

Theodosia  felt  thistles  of  fire  in  her  eyes.  Her 
voice  broke  and  she  was  on  the  verge  of  tears.  Rus- 
poli set  his  jaws  together,  half  closed  his  dead  eyes, 
braced  his  hand  on  the  carpet,  and  said  in  a  low,  in- 
flexible voice,  little  more  than  a  whisper :  "  It  is  not 
true.  Utter  those  words  again  and  I  will  embrace 
you." 

The  girl  could  hardly  credit  her  ears  and  leaned 
quickly  toward  him,  clapping  her  hands  together  to 
mark  emphasis  :  "  You  are  a  coward,  Prince  Ruspoli. 
I  like  Mr.  Stryne  very  much.  I  think  I  could  love 

him.     I  loathe  you. " 

189 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

By  accident  in  her  excitement,  Theodosia  brought 
her  pretty  right  foot  directly  down  on  his  hand. 
Ruspoli  would  have  been  injured  but  he  grabbed  it 
quickly  and  prevented  the  shock.  He  held  it  in  a 
terrible  grip,  bent  and  pressed  his  lips  on  the  instep, 
then  released  it. 

Directly  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  she  sprang  upward 
in  wrath.  His  features  were  rigid.  "I  warned 
you,  Signorina." 

Her  cheeks  and  neck  were  crimson.  She  could 
scarcely  choke  out  the  words,  "  I  want  to  use  my 
hands.  Oh,  to  be  a  man  just  to  kill  you !  " 

Ruspoli  saluted  her  as  he  might  have  greeted  his 
cousin,  the  Queen  of  Italy.  Theodosia  fled  to  the 
hall.  The  sight  of  her  departing  in  anger  melted 
the  Italian's  pride.  He  called  out,  leaping  after  her, 
"  Signorina,  pardon." 

She  turned  on  him,  nostrils  quivering,  lips  twitch- 
ing, eyes  blinking,  and  blinded  with  rage. 

"Don't  dare  speak  to  me,"  she  cried,  her  neck 
stretched  to  its  full  height.  "  Are  you  so  dull  you 
can  not  understand  that  our  acquaintance  is  abso- 
lutely at  an  end?" 


190 


Chapter  XVII 
VIOLETS 

JWENTY-FOUR  hours  passed  and  Theo- 
dosia  heard  nothing  from  Ruspoli.  He 
had  never  before  allowed  so  much  time  to 
elapse  without  making  himself  felt.  At  the  close  of 
another  day  she  received  news.  Adele  Whiting 
came  to  see  her  and  said  he  had  called  that  after- 
noon. It  was  her  first  experience  with  the  gall  of 
neglect,  and  she  declared  under  her  breath  that  she 
hated  him.  Wrath  so  furious  as  hers  was  soon 
spent.  Unless  she  commanded  imagination  to  re- 
count and  reiterate  her  wrongs,  she  found  indigna- 
tion subsiding  into  tepidity. 

Theodosia  asked  Adele  Whiting  directly,  "Tell 
me  what  you  both  said  of  me.  I  suppose  you  talked 
about  nothing  else." 

"  On  the  contrary,  Theo.  I  referred  to  you  often. 
It  was  only  natural  since  you  are  my  dearest  friend, 
but  each  time  I  mentioned  you  Ruspoli  preferred 
another  subject.  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you 
and  him.  What  have  you  done?  I'm  sure  some- 
thing naughty." 

191 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  I  merely  refused  ever  to  meet  the  Prince  again. 
I'm  tired  of  him. "  Theodosia  could  not  explain  that 
he  insulted  her,  for  she  realized  that  the  chief  fault 
lay  in  herself.  Adele  became  embarrassed  as  she 
began,  "  The  Prince  asked  mamma  and  me  to  drive 
with  him  to  the  Cliff  to-morrow.  I  hope,  Theo  dear, 
you  will  not  mind.  I  should  have  refused,  I  suppose, 
but  the  right  thing  never  occurs  to  one  until  after- 
ward. I  didn't  feel  quite  nice  about  going  without 
first  explaining  to  you.  What  shall  I  do?  " 

Theodosia  turned  a  trifle  pale  and  then  smiled. 
"You  foolish  girl,  go  of  course.  I've  cut  Prince 
Ruspoli  myself,  but  I  don't  ask  my  friends  to  do  the 
same.  I  have  no  more  concern  in  him  than  in  a 
stranger." 

"  Still,  I'm  not  exactly  sure.  I  know  he  doesn't 
care  a  bit  about  taking  me,  but  merely  asks  me 
because  I  am  close  to  you." 

"  You  are  charming  enough  to  be  liked  for  yourself 
alone,  Adele.  You  please  him  or  he  would  not  have 
invited  you." 

"  If  I  only  could  straighten  things  out  between 
you  I  should  feel  justified,  but  I  don't  think  I 
ought." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  straightened  out,  Adele. 
It  is  simply  finished,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  Please  go. 

I'm  awfully  anxious  that  you  do,"  said  Theodosia  in 

192 


VIOLETS 

rising  spirits.  "  Promise  me  that  you  will,"  insisted 
she  as  her  friend  departed. 

During  the  afternoons  in  the  seventies,  the  Cliff 
House  was  the  objective  point  of  the  fashionable 
world.  It  had  not  yet  been  popularized  by  street-car 
lines.  Consequently  only  those  persons  possessing 
leisure  and  carriages  could  go  there.  The  Cliff  be- 
came the  mode,  and  every  afternoon  between  the 
hours  of  three  and  six,  dozens  of  conveyances  con- 
taining San  Francisco's  handsomest  and  best-dressed 
women  drove  from  the  town  to  the  ocean.  Now 
they  are  scattered  over  two  continents.  Their  beauty, 
their  wit,  and  their  admirers  at  this  day  are  merely 
the  folk-lore  of  old  San  Franciscans. 

Ruspoli  and  the  Whitings  joined  this  throng.  It 
was  like  the  society  of  a  village,  for  they  nodded  to 
the  occupants  of  nearly  every  carriage.  The  Italian 
was  extremely  courteous  to  Mrs.  Whiting,  a  stately, 
snowy-haired,  blue-eyed  woman,  who  had  given  her 
daughter  none  of  her  beauty.  They  talked  of  Italy 
where  Mrs.  Whiting  had  lived,  and  Ruspoli  was  so 
deferential  that  it  seemed  to  the  lady  her  girlhood 
had  returned.  Their  carriage  was  turning  into  the 
road  overlooking  the  ocean  and  leading  to  the  Cliff 
House,  when  they  noticed  the  tan  livery  of  the  Pey- 
ton footman  and  coachman. 

Adele  now  understood  why  Theodosia  begged  her 
13  *93 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

to  drive  with  Ruspoli.  In  a  second  they  were  facing 
Miss  Peyton  and  Paul  Stryne.  Both  greeted  the 
Whitings  with  cordiality,  but  apparently  the  Prince 
was  unobserved.  Yet  no  break  occurred  in  his  voice 
and  he  picked  up  the  sentence  in  the  same  intona- 
tion as  before  he  paused  to  remove  his  hat.  Later 
in  the  afternoon  the  Whitings  observed  that  Rus- 
poli 's  spirits  lagged. 

That  evening  Colonel  Peyton  found  his  daughter 
most  companionable.  She  had  not  been  so  gay  in 
months.  "  You  are  too  happy,  Theodosia,  to  be 
natural.  What  is  the  matter?  " 

"I'm  feeling  the  greatest  of  all  joys,  daddy — 
revenge." 

"  You  imagine  that,  my  girl.  To-morrow  you  will 
be  regretful.  The  pleasure  of  revenge  is  very  short- 
lived. Never  take  it,  for  it  is  not  worth  while." 

Theodosia  refused  to  explain  more,  for  she  dis- 
dained the  assistance  of  even  her  father  in  fighting 
her  battles. 

When  she  heard  the  bell  ring  the  following  morn- 
ing, she  was  certain  that  it  was  a  message  from 
Ruspoli.  She  was  wearing  a  white  lace  peignoir 
and  just  taking  coffee.  Victoire,  her  maid,  brought 
a  note  and  begged  to  know  where  she  should  place 
the  violets.  There  were  great  boxes  and  baskets  of 

them.       Theodosia   ordered   them    fetched    to    her. 

194 


VIOLETS 

Then  she  was  alone  with  her  letter.  It  was  in 
Italian. 

"  I  can  not  believe  that  after  four  days  your  anger 
is  unreasonable.  You  are  too  kind  and  generous 
for  that.  So  I  venture  to  send  you  a  few  violets. 

"  These  days  of  separation,  dearest  Signorina,  are 
nothing  to  you,  but  I  can  not  endure  another.  I 
must  see  you  again,  for  your  beautiful  vision  is  the 
horizon  of  my  heart  and  soul.  The  air  of  this  city  is 
intolerable  if  I  am  to  be  banished  from  your  presence. 
If  I  can  not  be  near  you  I  must  move.  I  am  unable 
to  endure  the  fetters  of  San  Francisco.  I  must  find 
action,  something  to  express  this  terrible  current  of 
fire,  seething  within  me. 

"  I  will  say  anything  you  desire.  You  were  kind, 
you  were  just.  I  was  wrong.  I  supplicate,  entreat 
the  favor  of  five  minutes'  conversation  with  you,  if 
only  for  addio.  It  is  no  idle  lover's  boast  when  I 
tell  you  that  everything  depends  upon  you.  If  I 
come  this  evening  at  half  after  eight,  tell  me  shall  I 
return  to  Italy  or  remain. 

"RUSPOLI." 

Theodosia  wrote  on  a  sheet  of  paper  "  Five  min- 
utes for  addio"  and  the  messenger  left  the  house. 

Presently  she  dismissed  Victoire,  and  re-read  the 
letter.  White  and  purple  violets  filled  the  apartment 
with  their  aroma.  Her  head  was  burning  and  she 


THE   SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

buried  her  face  in  a  box  of  the  flowers.  Their  moist 
petals  cooled  her  cheeks.  Then  she  took  the  blos- 
soms into  her  arms  and  caressed  them  as  a  mother 
embraces  a  child.  She  lay  on  the  couch  and  covered 
her  entire  form  with  loose  violets.  Finally  her  brain 
was  dizzy  from  the  scent. 

Later  Victoire  returned  and  took  away  all  but  one 
basket  to  arrange  in  the  Oriental  drawing-room. 
She  placed  them  in  every  corner,  vase,  urn,  and  on 
each  tabouret  and  table  it  the  apartment.  When 
Theodosia  entered  it  that  evening  on  her  way  to 
dinner,  the  rich  perfume  penetrated  her  senses  and 
made  her  giddy.  It  had  been  a  long  day  and  she 
dressed  early  for  dinner  because  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do.  She  felt  it  an  absurd  coincidence  that 
the  hours  stood  still  on  this  day  of  Ruspoli's  depar- 
ture. It  gave  him  the  importance  of  an  event. 

Theodosia  strolled  about  the  room,  humming  an 
air  and  looking  at  herself  in  mirrors.  She  had 
dressed  with  a  special  care,  putting  on  her  princesse 
gown  of  heavy  cream  silk.  She  looked  at  the  white 
and  pink  flesh  of  her  face,  arms,  and  shoulders,  her 
curls  extending  to  her  waist  line,  the  rose  of  her  lips, 
the  blue  of  her  large,  clear,  merry  eyes,  and  shud- 
dered as  she  realized  that  this  gift  of  youth  and 
beauty  was  hers  for  but  a  few  years.  In  a  decade  it 

would  be  broken.     In  two  of  them,  gone. 

196 


VIOLETS 

Then  she  threw  out  both  arms  convulsively  and 
drew  a  deep,  full  breath.  "Twenty  years,"  said 
she.  "  What  will  happen  in  that  time  ?  I  do  not 
know,  but  I  shall  live  every  minute  of  them.  When 
age,  death,  or  anything  horrid  comes,  life  can  not 
say  I  was  cheated  of  a  second." 

Meditation  arose  from  solitude,  over-punctuality, 
and  being  obliged  to  wait,  all  three  of  which  she 
resolved  to  avoid  in  the  future.  Then  she  chirped 
a  gay  French  student  song  and  pinned  a  great  cluster 
of  Ruspoli's  violets  in  her  hair.  They  were  an  im- 
provement— royal  purple  on  gold.  Presently  she  fast- 
ened more  of  them  on  her  left  shoulder,  some  rest- 
ing their  heads  on  the  flesh  and  others  on  her  white 
band  of  a  sleeve.  They  rendered  her  more  beautiful 
and  forced  her  to  forget  the  pessimistic  calendar. 

A  minute  before  half  after  eight  Theodosia  re- 
ceived the  Prince's  card.  She  was  dreaming  in  the 
twilight  of  her  room.  She  clasped  on  her  wrist  a 
pearl  bracelet  in  which  was  set  a  small  watch. 
After  tossing  one  curl  over  her  shoulder,  arranging 
her  violets,  she  sat  in  her  chair  and  thought  for  ten 
minutes.  Then  she  descended  the  stairway  to 
Ruspoli. 

The  Prince  was  standing  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
apparently  had  been  in  the  same  attitude  since  his 

arrival.     In  his  evening  coat  his  shoulders  seemed 

197 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

broader  than  usual.  His  cheeks  were  as  colorless  as 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt.  Eyes  and  hair  glowed  like 
jet.  His  well-defined,  red  lips,  even  tho  unopened, 
spoke  his  thoughts.  The  girl  looked  at  him  an  in- 
stant before  the  greeting.  Ruspoli's  features,  bear- 
ing, and  manner  were  so  patrician,  so  thoroughly 
what  a  gentleman  should  be,  that  the  artist  in  her 
must  admire  him. 

He  bowed  profoundly,  his  heels  together.  No 
other  man  could  convey  such  homage  with  a  simple 
salutation.  Every  woman  who  received  it  felt  it 
the  highest  flattery,  because  for  the  instant  she 
seemed  the  only  being  of  his  thoughts. 

Ruspoli's  eyes  followed  Theodosia's  movements. 
She  approached  him  and  frankly  gave  her  hand. 
When  he  was  seated  near  her  he  shook  his  head 
slightly,  and  blinked  his  eyes  to  pierce  the  mist  fill- 
ing them.  His  rigid,  upright  frame  quivered. 

"  Remember, "  said  Theodosia  gently,  "  you  must 
speak  very  rapidly,  for  you  have  but  five  minutes. " 

"  Pray,  do  not  remind  me  of  that,  Signorina.  It 
is  unnecessary."  For  the  first  time  he  observed  the 
violets  in  her  hair.  Previously  he  had  not  taken  his 
gaze  from  her  eyes.  Then  he  nearly  smiled. 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  wear  them,  Signorina.  I 
thank  you. " 

"  Why  not  ?     They  are  beautiful." 
198 


VIOLETS 


"They  are  in  your  hair  only  because  of  their 
beauty  ?  Tell  me,  I  beg,  that  they  are  a  token  of 
your  nobility,  generosity,  that  I  am  almost  forgiven, 
that  I  may  remain.'' 

Theodosia  shook  her  head  and  looked  at  her  brace- 
let. 

"  I  said  five  minutes  for  addio,  Prince." 

"  You  will  not  be  gracious  ?  Am  I  not  pardoned  ? 
Is  this  to  be  our  separation,  Signorina?  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  I  am  nothing  to  you  ?  Can  you 
send  me  away  after  our  year  of  friendship  with  no 
kind  word?  Was  I  so  completely  wrong?  " 

"  We  have  no  time  for  argument,  Prince  Ruspoli 
— only  three  minutes  more." 

"  Have  I  ever  offended  you  before,  Signorina?  " 

"No.     Once  is  sufficient. " 

"  You  demand  that  I  submit  to  everything  from 
you,  that  I  be  your  slave?  " 

"  I  made  no  demands,  Prince  Ruspoli.  You  have 
acted  always  as  pleased  you." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  have  been  a  serf.  Do  you  sup- 
pose were  I  anything  else  I  should  have  followed  you 
a  year?  I  have  abased  myself  to  the  point  where  I 
can  not  resent  insult.  Mine  was  the  kiss  of  a  slave 
and  you  should  consider  it  such." 

"Thirty  seconds  are  gone." 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  sought  a  woman  who 
199 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

showed  I  displeased.  It  may  be  surprising  to  you, 
Signorina,  but  in  other  parts  of  the  world  I  am  not 
so  utterly  insignificant  as  here." 

"  I  agree  with  you.  Frankly  you  are  charming, 
but  let  us  not  waste  time  discussing  it,  for  only  two 
minutes  are  left." 

"  You  misinterpret  my  meaning.  My  intention, 
Signorina,  was  to  explain  that  this  is  the  first  time  I 
have  been  held  by  a  woman  as  a  person  of  no  conse- 
quence. It  is  almost  worth  a  trip  to  California." 

"  Pardon  me  for  wounding  your  vanity,  Prince." 

"  My  vanity, "  stormed  he  rapidly  in  Italian.  "  Dio 
mio,  my  vanity !  Do  you  suppose  if  I  had  an  atom, 
a  shadow,  a  trace  of  vanity,  that  I  should  sit  here 
and  beg  you  to  show  me  the  consideration  you  would 
grant  a  tradesman  ?  Had  I  possessed  vanity,  Signo- 
rina, at  the  end  of  three  weeks  you  would  have  loved 
me  or  I  should  have  left  you.  It  is  the  absence  of 
vanity  which  holds  me,  pleading  only  that  you  will 
dismiss  me  kindly." 

"  That  is  a  paradox.  Women  who  send  men  away 
kindly  do  not  send  them  at  all." 

"  If  you  will  be  gentle  I  will  go  this  minute,  and 
I  promise,  Signorina,  you  shall  never  hear  from  me 
again.  I  will  never  tire  you,  bore  you,  or  harass 
you,  as  you  said  that  night.  You  meant  it  all,  did 

you  not? " 

200 


VIOLETS 

Theodosia's  nose  and  mouth  were  hidden  in  the 
large  bouquet  of  violets  on  her  left  shoulder.  He 
could  not  see  her  eyes  and  scarcely  distinguished 
the  words,  "  Not  quite  all.  You  know  I  was  angry." 

"  And  you  are  not  angry  now,  Signorina  ?  Look 
at  me." 

Theodosia  endeavored  to  be  severe.  "  Of  course 
I  am,  but  I  mean  the  other  evening  I  was  very,  very 
angry.  Now  I  am  only  very  angry.  You  see  there 
is  a  word's  difference." 

"  You  will  always  be  angry?  " 

"  Always,"  said  she,  burying  her  face  in  the  violets. 

Suddenly  Theodosia  started  and  looked  at  the 
watch  in  her  pearl  bracelet.  "  Oh,"  cried  she,  "  your 
five  minutes  are  passed,  six  minutes." 

"Then  you  really  mean  addio?"  asked  he,  as  she 
again  hid  her  countenance  in  the  violets  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  Really,"  answered  she  in  a  smothered  voice. 

A  look  of  intelligence  flashed  into  his  eyes.  He 
arose  to  go.  She  accompanied  him,  saying, 

"  Those  violets  are  delicious.  I  can  not  take  my 
face  from  them.  They  are  so  fragrant. " 

"  Not  to  say  addio  ?  " 

"No,  not  even  for  that.     They  are  intoxicating." 

Ruspoli  stood  in  front  of  her  and  she  held  out  her 
hand,  "Addio,  Prince." 

2OI 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"I  refuse  to  go,  Signorina,  unless  you  look  at 
me." 

Theodosia  raised  her  head  reluctantly  and  tried  to 
smile,  but  on  the  right  cheek  was  a  tiny  drop  of 
water,  the  sum  of  all  her  woe — a  tear. 

Ruspoli  lowered  his  face  close  to  hers.  Joy  was  in 
his  eyes.  He  feared  to  mar  his  happiness  by  aught 
but  a  whisper : 

"There  is  something  on  your  cheek,  Signorina, 
that  looks  like  a  tear." 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  she  said  quickly,  laughing  as  she 
brushed  it  with  her  handkerchief.  "  It  is  merely  the 
water  from  your  violets. " 

"  Pardon  me,  Signorina,  but  there  are  two  drops  of 
water  on  your  left  cheek." 

"  Those  violets,  Prince,  are  very  wet." 

"  May  I  have  them,  Signorina  ?  " 

Theodosia  concealed  her  face  in  their  purple  petals 
and  answered,  "  No,  they  are  mine." 

"  But  I  asked  for  the  sake  of  addfo" 

"  Your  .five  minutes  are  gone." 

"  May  I  have  the  violets  ?  "  queried  he,  reaching 
for  them?  She  unloosened  them  from  her  bodice, 
buried  her  face  in  them,  and  with  bravery  depicted 
on  her  countenance,  gave  him  the  flowers.  Ruspoli 
looked  at  her  steadily  as  she  did  so.  Then  he  crushed 
the  violets  to  his  mouth.  When  he  raised  his  eyes 


202 


VIOLETS 

they  bore  the  same  inebriated  expression  as  hers. 
He  kissed  the  flowers  repeatedly,  and  Theodosia 
cried,  "  Let  me  take  them  once  more." 

She  crushed  them  in  her  hands  and  pressed  them 
to  her  face.  "Theodosia,"  exclaimed  Ruspoli,  step- 
ping toward  her  with  outstretched  arms. 

"No,"  answered  she,  turning  away  from  him. 
"  Take  them  quickly." 

Ruspoli  held  them  to  his  lips  and  devoured  some 
of  them. 

"  Those  in  your  hair.  Let  me  touch  them  there 
on  your  head.  Just  once  for  addio" 

She  held  the  violets  tightly  in  her  fingers,  her  eyes 
closed,  while  he  caressed  the  flowers  in  her  hair. 
The  purple  blossoms  scattered  into  the  gold  of  her 
curls,  and  Theodosia  was  in  the  Prince's  arms.  He 
kissed  her  lips,  her  eyes,  her  cheeks,  her  hair. 
Neither  could  speak.  Tears  streamed  down  his 
cheeks. 

"  Dio,  how  I  love  thee,  Theodosia.  Once  touch 
thy  lips  to  mine,  my  life. " 

Her  head  lay  upon  his  shoulder.  "  Thou  cruel 
woman,  thou  most  beautiful,  I  adore  thee." 

"  I  do  not  love  thee,  Alessandro.  It  was  only  the 
violets,"  said  she  faintly.  "  I  am  mad  from  them. " 

"  Thou  lovest  me,  Theodosia. " 

"  I  do  not  love  thee." 

203 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PKINCE 

"Look  at  me,  Theodosia,  my  joy.  Thou  lovest 
me." 

"  No,  it  was  the  violets'  perfume,"  answered  she, 
freeing  herself  from  his  embrace.  Then  she  held 
out  her  hand  and  said,  "  Buona  notte,  Prince.  A 
rivederci" 

Slowly  she  moved  backward  to  the  door,  her  eyes 
looking  sadly  at  his,  the  violets  dropping  from  her 
hair  to  the  floor.  Anguish  drooped  the  corners  of 
her  lips  and  lined  her  brow.  The  Italian  stood 
mutely  reading  the  meaning  of  her  face.  Again  she 
repeated,  "A  rivederci,  Prince." 

Ruspoli  sprang  forward,  clasping  her  hands,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  Thou  dost  not  mean  a  rivederci,  Signorina. 
Thine  eyes  tell  me  that  we  shall  never  meet  again. 
They  say  addio" 

Theodosia's  was  a  faint  head  tone,  "  I  said  'a 
rivederci' ' 

"  Then  tell  me  when,  Theodosia." 

Tears  blistered  her  cheeks,  and  she  shook  her 
head,  scarcely  articulating  the  words,  "I  do  not 
know." 

Ruspoli  stood  in  the  doorway  and  watched  her 
white  gown  disappear  up  the  staircase.  She  came 
back  and  cast  toward  him  a  few  violets  from  her  hair. 

"A  rivederci,  Prince." 

204 


VIOLETS 

Then  she  hurled  herself  into  her  room,  shivering 
with  sobs.  "Purple  is  frightfully  unbecoming, 
Victoire.  Throw  those  violets  away.  Never  allow 
them  in  the  house  again.  Their  perfume  makes  me 
ill." 


205 


Chapter  XVIII 
THE  PRINCE  RECEIVES  HIS  CONGE 

[EODOSIA  PEYTON  had  skated  over 
cracking  ice,  thin  as  white  tissue  paper. 
It  did  not  break.  She  had  swum  the 
swiftest  rapids.  The  exhilaration  but  pleased  her. 
She  had  walked  on  the  edge  of  the  precipices  of  the 
Alps.  It  was  sport.  Her  head  was  clear  as  the 
mountain  air. 

When  she  rode,  she  sought  an  untamed  horse.  If 
she  went  to  sea  she  preferred  a  storm.  Her  highly 
strung  nature  always  demanded  danger.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her  that  it  might  be  found  in  Ruspoli,  un- 
aggressive,  indolent,  with  only  his  courtly  manner, 
gentle  heart,  and  handsome  face  and  form  to  warn 
peril.  Under  all  circumstances  she  discovered  the 
ludicrous.  This  evening  was  like  a  shipwreck  in  the 
Sacramento  River.  Clearly  she  was  no  sort  of  a 
sailor. 

Were  it  Stryne,  for  example,  she  would  not  have 
been  so  surprised.  Theodosia  could  readily  fancy 
being  swept  off  her  feet  by  his  force  and  vehemence. 

Ruspoli  was  a  humiliation  to  her  pride  and  mind. 

206 


THE  PRINCE  RECEIVES  HIS   CONG& 

She  had  yielded  her  lips,  her  soul,  to  an  inferior 
power. 

Notwithstanding  this  he  was  unattainable.  There 
lay  the  sting.  Penniless  but  for  the  allowance  and 
favor  of  the  King,  a  dependent  upon  his  cousin,  she 
had  permitted  herself  to  be  embraced  by  a  man  as  far 
from  her  as  tho  married.  Here  was  more  wormwood 
for  her  to  drink — Theodosia,  an  experienced  general, 
surrounded  and  taken  prisoner  through  a  trick ! 

Theodosia  recalled  that  the  Prince  declared  she 
loved  him.  Of  course  she  had  contradicted,  but  he 
undoubtedly  believed  it.  He  must  be  disabused  of 
the  idea  immediately,  if  the  morning  failed  to  con- 
vince him  of  the  folly  of  his  fancy. 

There  were  to  be  no  more  meetings  for  "  Addio  " 
or  "A  rivederci"  but  a  note  telling  what  she  thought 
was  the  truth  and  giving  him  dismissal. 

Theodosia  assured  herself  that  her  shock  was  suffi- 
cient warning  against  further  absurdity.  Later  she 
became  convinced  that  something  more  than  a  re- 
quest or  a  demand  was  necessary  to  rid  herself  of 
the  Italian,  for  underneath  his  impassive  exterior 
was  surprising  tenacity. 

The  girl  perceived  the  need  of  escaping  from  the 
city  or  Santa  Cruz.  She  knew  that  Ruspoli  would 
not  depart  if  he  could  find  her  in  either  place.  She 

considered  possible  refuges.     All  were  accessible  to 

207 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

him.  Finally  she  thought  of  White  Springs,  a  farm 
owned  by  one  of  the  former  servants  of  the  Peytons. 
It  lay  in  the  foothills  of  the  Sierras,  distant  several 
hours  of  railway  travel,  and  two  days'  journey  by 
stage.  She  was  not  running  away,  she  explained 
to  her  conscience — merely  making  a  strategic  move- 
ment to  the  rear. 

Theodosia  quickly  prepared  for  the  journey.  By 
ten  o'clock  she  was  ready  to  go  to  the  station.  She 
decided  to  depart  alone.  Only  her  father  and  Vic- 
toire  were  to  know  of  her  whereabouts.  She  could 
trust  them.  To  her  intimate  friends  she  merely 
wrote  notes  explaining  that  she  had  been  ordered  a 
complete  rest  and  repose  in  the  mountains.  She 
would  return  when  restored  to  health.  Ruspoli  re- 
ceived the  following  in  Italian : 

"  We  have  said  addio,  and  there  must  be  no  more 
repetition.  I  told  you  quite  frankly  last  evening 
that  I  do  not  love  you.  The  word  shall  never  be 
altered.  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  said. 

"  I  am  leaving  town  to-day  and  I  shall  not  return 
until  you  are  gone.  It  is  useless  for  you  to  endeavor 
to  find  me,  for  no  one  knows  my  abiding  place. 

"  I  dare  say,  I  have  been  very  naughty.  Men 
always  think  that  when  women  do  not  care  for  them. 
Perhaps  you  are  right.  If  you  are,  I  am  sorry. 

"  If  you  blame  me,  be  consoled  by  bearing  in  mind 
208 


THE  PRINCE  RECEIVES  HIS  CONG& 

that  last  evening  you  caused  the  most  thorough 
humiliation  of  my  life.  That  should  be  some  happi- 
ness for  you. 

"I  have  done  with  flirtation. 

"  THEODOSIA  PEYTON." 

Ruspoli  read  the  hard,  forced  letter  several  hours 
after  Theodosia's  departure.  It  hurt  him,  altho  it 
was  not  unexpected.  By  this  time  he  had  learned 
that  there  was  always  an  ebb  in  the  flood  of  her 
emotions.  The  Prince,  notwithstanding  the  deter- 
mined, deliberate  cruelty  of  the  note,  smiled  at  her 
words,  "  I  told  you  quite  frankly  last  evening  that  I 
do  not  love  you."  Again  he  held  her  in  his  arms  as 
then,  and  his  lips  were  on  hers.  He  was  suffocated 
by  the  perfume  of  her  hair.  Ruspoli  shook  his  head 
over  the  vacillation  of  woman. 

Theodosia  believed  that,  when  the  Italian  saw 
himself  without  hope,  he  would  depart  immediately. 
It  was  something  that  never  occurred  to  him.  In- 
stead his  mind  traversed  the  full  list  of  her  friends 
and  acquaintances.  He  discovered  that,  while  she 
was  the  confidante  of  many  women,  she  kept  her 
own  secrets.  There  was  no  friend  who  could  betray 
her.  Colonel  Peyton  was  not  to  be  considered. 
Suddenly  his  fist  came  down  upon  the  arm  of  his 

chair,  and,  leaving  the  club  where  he  was  staying,  he 
14  209 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

ascended  California  Street  to  the  Peyton  house. 
There  he  asked  for  Victoire. 

This  rounded,  red-cheeked,  black-eyed  Parisian 
had  charms  of  her  own.  When  told  that  the  Prince 
desired  to  see  her,  she  rushed  to  the  mirror  and  then 
descended  in  a  great  flurry.  Victoire  had  always 
believed  that,  if  she  could  once  fix  Ruspoli  with  her 
gaze,  he  would  turn  his  eyes  a  second  time.  This 
was  her  opportunity. 

The  Prince  assumed  his  grande  maniere.  He 
gave  her  the  bow  he  offered  Theodosia  and  his 
Queen.  It  was  a  great  occasion  and  nothing  could 
be  overlooked.  His  salutation  made  Victoire  certain 
that  if  only  she  had  a  "  dot "  she  might  be  a  Baroness, 

Victoire  lowered  her  glance,  giving  the  Italian  the 
full  danger  of  her  eyes — they  really  were  fine — 
while  he  spoke. 

"Mademoiselle,"  began  he  in  French.  The  Rus- 
polis  were  not  royal,  but  they  had  given  their  coun- 
try several  generations  of  diplomats.  It  was  some- 
thing for  Victoire  to  be  addressed  as  Mademoiselle 
by  the  cousin  of  the  King  of  Italy. 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  know  you  have  the  complete 
trust  and  confidence  of  Mademoiselle  Peyton.  You 
are  probably  the  only  person  in  San  Francisco  to 
whom. she  would  give  her  address,  for  she  is  quite  ill, 

I  understand,  and  wishes  to  be  alone." 

210 


THE  PRINCE  RECEIVES  HIS  CONG& 

"  Vraiment,  Monsieur  le  Prince,  Mademoiselle  is 
indeed  ill.  Last  evening  even  the  perfume  of  vio- 
lets made  her  hysterical." 

"  Indeed,  all  her  friends  regret  it  exceedingly, 
Mademoiselle,"  answered  Ruspoli,  contracting  the 
corners  of  his  lips  to  keep  from  showing  his  pleasure. 

"  Only  news  of  the  utmost  importance  could  induce 
me  to  ask  for  her  address.  It  is  quite  necessary 
that  I  speak  with  her." 

"  I  regret  enormously,  but  I  am  as  helpless  as 
Monsieur  le  Prince.  I  have  no  idea  where  Made- 
moiselle has  gone."  Victoire  continued  to  shake 
her  head  and  smile. 

"  Very  unfortunate,  Mademoiselle,  but  it  would  be 
a  favor  never  to  be  forgotten  if  you  could  give  me  a 
suggestion,  an  opinion." 

"  Non.  I  am  quite  puzzled,  a  mere  baby.  There 
is  San  Diego.  Does  Monsieur  le  Prince  think  Made- 
moiselle is  at  San  Diego?  Hardly,"  she  answered 
herself. 

"  I  agree,  Mademoiselle." 

"It  may  be  that  she  is  at  Santa  Cruz.  Non? 
Monsieur  le  Prince  is  quite  right.  Tiens!  There 
is  a  little  place  called  White  Springs  in  the  foothills 
of  the  Sierras — very  quiet,  remote,  with  a  great  deal 
of  spring- water  for  the  health.  It  belongs  to  an  old 

cnisinier  of  the  Peyton  family.     Is  it  possible,  Mon- 

frll 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

sieur  le  Prince,  that  Mademoiselle  is  there  drinking 
the  water?" 

"  Very  probable,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Vraiment?  One  travels  several  hours  by  train 
and  almost  two  days  by  stage.  It  is  a  long  journey. 
Does  Monsieur  le  Prince  think  Mademoiselle  has 
gone  so  far?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  Mademoiselle." 

Victoire  bent  her  eyebrows  into  a  bow  and  re- 
marked : 

"  Monsieur  le  Prince  knows  Mademoiselle  may  not 
be  at  White  Springs." 

As  Ruspoli  departed  he  gave  Victoire  a  twenty- 
dollar  gold  piece.  She  held  it  in  the  palm  of  her 
hand,  looking  first  at  it  and  then  at  him.  Bewilder- 
ment was  in  her  expression. 

"  For  what  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  You  were  most  kind,  Mademoiselle." 

"  It  is  too  much,  for  remember,  I  told  Monsieur  le 
Prince  nothing." 

Ruspoli  saluted  with  ceremony. 


212 


Chapter  XIX 
THE  BETROTHAL   IN  THE  WOOD 

.SSENGERS  going  to  White  Springs 
quitted  the  car  at  Hopeville.  The  first 
train  left  Oakland  at  seven  o'clock.  It 
was  the  one  Ruspoli  took.  There  were  but  three  or 
four  occupants  of  the  coach.  He  went  into  the 
smoker  to  enjoy  a  cigarette.  Stryne  was  the  only 
other  traveler.  On  the  day  the  socialist  drove  with 
Theodosia  she  had  requested  him  to  cut  the  Italian. 
It  was  a  new  reason  for  disliking  the  Prince.  How- 
ever, the  two  men  received  each  other  with  a  mode- 
rate show  of  cordiality. 

There  was  mutual  contempt  existing  between 
them  by  nature.  Had  it  not  been  that  each  resolved 
to  discover  whatever  Miss  Peyton  found  interesting 
in  the  other,  they  would  have  separated  immediately. 
So  the  rivals  sat  facing  one  another,  each  endeavoring 
to  make  the  other  out.  Until  noon  they  discussed 
in  Italian  impersonal  European  topics.  The  train 
neared  Hopeville  and  the  Prince  wondered  that 

Stryne  had  not  left  the  car.     He  was  the  first  to  re- 

213 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

fer  to  the  present  and  speak  of  the  accident  of  their 
traveling  together. 

"  It  is  but  a  short  while  before  election  day,  and  I 
thought  you  had  finished  campaigning  in  the  country. 
Your  party  has  surely  won.  Further  work  must  be 
unnecessary." 

"We  can  never  be  certain  of  anything  in  politics," 
answered  Stryne.  "A  campaign  is  never  finished 
until  the  night  before  election.  Even  then  an  acci- 
dent may  change  results  at  the  last  moment." 

The  brakeman  called  out  Hopeville.  Ruspoli  arose 
quickly,  shook  hands  with  Stryne,  and  said : 

u  I  am  sorry,  Signore,  but  we  part  here.  I  take 
the  stage  to  go  up  in  the  mountains  to  visit  some 
friends.  All  possible  success  in  your  elections, 
Signore." 

"  Then  we  shall  be  companions  still  farther,  for  I 
too,  take  the  stage  at  Hopeville." 

There  was  disappointment  in  the  manner  of  both, 
for  they  felt  that  their  journey  should  have  ended  at 
that  station.  Yet  they  grimly  continued  conversa- 
tion as  the  stage  ascended  the  narrow  road,  winding 
up  the  hills  which  looked  down  upon  fertile,  prosper- 
ous, yellow  and  green  valleys.  Time  passed  as 
they  counted  varieties  of  wild  flowers,  an  inexhausti- 
ble subject  in  the  country  of  California.  As  the 

supper  hour  and  night  approached  both  lapsed  into 

214 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE    WOOD 

silence  and  unreservedly  wondered  what  the  end  of 
the  journey  was  to  be. 

They  stayed  at  Pine  Bluff  that  night  and  each 
left  orders  to  be  called  for  the  first  stage.  Still  the 
terminus  of  the  trip  was  not  mentioned.  By  noon 
the  following  day  they  ceased  discussing  the  flora, 
altho  its  beauty  increased  with  the  wildness  of  the 
landscape.  Ten  and  twenty  differently  colored 
flowers  in  the  space  of  a  yard  no  longer  interested 
them. 

From  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  until  seven  at 
night  was  a  continuous  descent  of  the  mountain  to 
White  Springs.  There  was  but  one  other  stopping 
place  for  the  stage,  Sulphur  Springs,  five  miles 
farther  into  the  valley,  the  terminus  of  the  road. 
There  was  a  dismal  silence.  Stryne  wondered  whom 
Ruspoli  knew  at  Sulphur  Springs.  The  Prince  raged 
at  the  double  perfidy  of  Victoire.  At  last  the  social- 
ist climbed  to  the  driver's  seat  and  talked  with  him. 

Half  an  hour  before  White  Springs  was  reached, 
Ruspoli  inquired  after  his  luggage.  The  socialist 
made  no  mention  of  his.  The  driver  whipped  his 
horses  into  speed  worthy  of  the  approach  to  the 
White  Springs  Inn,  where  he  knew  the  maid  would 
be  awaiting  him. 

The  few  boarders  of  the  fall  season  were  sitting  on 
the  porch.  Theodosia  in  a  white  muslin  gown  recog- 


21 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

nized  Stryne  from  a  distance  and  waved  her  handker- 
chief. The  stage  approached  with  a  dash,  and  a 
dramatic  sawing  on  the  reins  to  check  the  fiery 
animals.  They  came  to  a  standstill.  Theodosia 
stepped  to  the  side  of  the  driver's  seat,  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  socialist,  and  said : 

"I'm  so  glad  you  are  here,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"  It  is  only  for  business,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  I  am 
on  my  way  to  Sulphur  Springs  to  pass  the  night.  I 
go  back  in  the  morning." 

"  How  naughty  !  I  wrote  you  to  come  here.  This 
is  only  a  coincidence,  then  ?  Such  a  disappoint- 
ment !  I  felt  I  must  get  away  from  town  for  a  while, 
and,  altho  I  have  been  here  but  for  a  day,  I  am  so 
much  better.  Can  you  not  stay  twenty- four  hours  ? 
To-morrow  will  be  Sunday,  you  know." 

"  I  am  unable  to  remain  a  minute,  Miss  Peyton. 
The  stage  is  now  leaving.  Good-by." 

Meanwhile  Ruspoli  disappeared  into  the  dining- 
room.  When  he  returned  to  the  hotel  office  he 
passed  directly  to  his  room  to  dress.  When  fin- 
ished he  sought  Theodosia,  but  she  had  retired  early. 
He  must  wait  until  morning. 

They  both  arose  before  seven ;  Miss  Peyton  be- 
cause she  had  slept  enough,  and  Ruspoli  for  the 
reason  that  anxiety  and  restlessness  hinder  repose. 

The  Prince  traversed  the  porches  of  the  inn  and 
216 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE   WOOD 

then  struck  out  to  explore  the  paths  leading  through 
the  shrubbery  and  natural  park  surrounding  the 
springs.  He  walked  several  miles,  and,  returning  to 
the  hotel,  found  Theodosia  in  a  white  linen  gown, 
without  a  hat,  the  sun's  rays  illuminating  her  pale 
yellow  hair.  As  she  approached  the  large  spring, 
Ruspoli  dropped  the  cup  from  which  he  was  drinking 
and  waited  for  her  to  recognize  him.  There  was  no 
surprise  nor  pleasure  in  her  eyes,  merely  a  stiffening 
of  the  muscles  of  her  body.  The  Prince  uncovered 
his  head. 

"  So  you  are  here,"  said  she  simply. 

Ruspoli  bowed.  Theodosia  drank  a  glass  of  spring 
water  gushing  from  the  ground.  Then  she  looked  at 
him  again  and  said  :  "  I  suppose  you  came  last  night. 
I  understand  some  things  now." 

Ruspoli  was  silent  and  determined  to  force  her  to 
converse. 

She  sipped  more  water.  "  I  see  you  took  my  ad- 
vice, Prince  Ruspoli.  You  have  turned  detective 
after  all.  Whom  did  you  bribe  ?  " 

"  No  one,  Signorina." 

Theodosia  ceased  drinking  water  and  came  close 
to  him,  the  color  rising  in  her  cheeks,  the  pupils  of 
her  eyes  giving  out  flashes,  her  hair  waving  wrath- 
fully  in  the  breeze.  "  Speak  the  truth,  Prince  Rus- 
poli. How  did  you  know  I  was  here?  " 

217 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  How  did  Stryne  know  you  were  here,  Signo- 
rina? " 

"  Of  course  you  are  curious — man's  curiosity," 
sneered  she. 

"Not  curious,  Signorina;  but  since  you  ask  so 
many  questions,  have  I  not  the  privilege  of  one?  " 

Theodosia  placed  her  hands  behind  her  and  raised 
her  chin  in  the  air  defiantly,  showing  her  soft, 
rounded,  white  neck.  "  It  is  not  often,  Prince  Rus- 
poli,  that  I  gratify  curiosity,  but  I  will  tell  you  that 
Mr.  Stryne  came  here  because  I  wrote  asking  him, 
because  I  wanted  him.  Why  he  went  away  is  evi- 
dent. He  thought  I  had  invited  you  also.  If  you 
had  not  come  he  would  be  here  now,  this  minute." 

"  I  am  glad  I  came,  Signorina." 

Theodosia  glanced  at  the  Italian  with  wrath  and 
hurled  her  cup  of  water  past  him  into  the  bushes. 

"  Do  not  punish  the  cup,  Signorina.  Punish  me. 
I  submit." 

Ruspoli  moved  toward  Theodosia.  "  You  are  very 
beautiful  in  the  sunlight,  Signorina." 

"  Prince  Ruspoli,"  commanded  she,  stamping  her 
foot,  "never  again  dare  tell  me  I  am  beautiful." 

"  I  must  speak  the  truth,  even  tho  it  displease  you. 
You  are  charming  when  you  are  angry  and  when  you 
weep — the  only  woman  I  ever  saw  who  could  bear 
the  test." 

3X8 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE    WOOD 

Theodosia  walked  quickly  past  him  into  a  path 
leading  to  another  spring.  She  did  not  glance  at  the 
Prince.  Each  time  she  placed  her  foot  on  the  earth 
it  was  with  a  stamp.  In  her  simple  white  linen 
gown,  her  hands  straight  at  her  sides,  tears  clinging 
to  her  lashes,  she  looked  like  a  tempestuous  school- 
girl. Ruspoli,  wearing  a  blue  flannel  morning  suit 
and  a  white  cap,  followed  her  at  a  safe  distance. 
Finally  Theodosia  turned  on  her  heel  and  said  in 
Italian,  "  You  have  no  pride,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Signorina. " 

"  You  have  no  self-respect." 

"Just  a  little." 

"  No,  Prince,  if  you  had  you  would  not  go  into  a 
place  where  you  were  not  invited,  where  you  were 
forbidden,  where  you  are  not  wanted." 

Ruspoli  winced.  "  Pardon.  I  was  not  invited, 
I  was  forbidden,  but  I  was  wanted,  Signorina." 

"The  landlord?"  suggested  she. 

"No,  you,  Signorina." 

Theodosia  laughed  aloud.  "  I  wanted  you  ?  Why, 
then,  did  I  invite  Mr.  Stryne? " 

"As  an  antidote  to  me,  Signorina,"  answered  he, 
and  she  wondered  at  the  sudden  determination  that 
hardened  his  features. 

"  Pray,  Prince  Ruspoli,  why  did  I  come  here  if  I 

wished  to  see  you  ?  " 

219 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Because  you  were  ill.     You  are,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"I  am  not  ill.  I  came  here  solely  to  avoid 
you." 

"  And  you  desire  to  escape  me  because  you  love 
me." 

"  I  refuse  to  discuss  anything  so  utterly  stupid  as 
the  possibility  of  my  loving  you,"  answered  Theo- 
dosia  as  she  walked  rapidly  in  silence  up  a  hill. 

"  It  is  more  than  a  possibility,  Signorina.  It  is  a 
fact." 

Theodosia  shot  a  look  of  scorn  over  her  shoulder. 
They  passed  from  the  crest  of  the  hill  into  a  ravine 
which  seemed  to  lead  to  a  road.  They  followed  the 
path  until  it  came  to  an  end  and  found  themselves  in 
a  mazy  cluster  of  shrubbery.  In  Miss  Peyton's 
endeavor  to  regain  her  way,  she  turned  to  Ruspoli 
and  said :  "  I  am  lost.  Can  you  take  me  back?  " 

"  I  was  yielding  to  your  guidance,  Signorina,  but 
I  will  try." 

It  was  some  minutes  before  they  were  disentangled 
from  the  thicket,  and  then  Theodosia 's  hair  was 
snarled  with  leaves  and  bits  of  brush.  When  they 
reached  a  clearing  she  asked :  "  Can  you  see  the  way  ? 
I  am  bewildered.  I  can't  tell  east  from  west.  We 
wandered  from  the  path  so  far.  Do  you  know  where 
it  is,  Prince?" 

"  It's  over  the  knoll  there,  Signorina.     But  let  us 

220 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE    WOOD 

sit  here  under  the  trees  while  you  rest.  It  makes 
you  very  tired  to  be  so  naughty." 

Theodosia  could  scarcely  breathe  for  exhaustion, 
and  she  yielded  to  Ruspoli's  entreaties  to  sit  on  the 
grass.  He  lay  at  her  feet  and  she  looked  out  on  the 
radiantly  green  hills  surrounding  them.  He  turned 
his  back  to  the  view  of  the  scenery  and  gazed  at 
her. 

She  rested  a  moment  and  sprang  up  saying :  "  Let 
us  go  back.  I  don't  feel  safe  here." 

Ruspoli  walked  in  the  direction  indicated,  followed 
by  the  girl.  Then  he  turned  to  her.  He  said  noth- 
ing, but  his  look  expressed  confusion.  There  was 
no  path. 

"  Where  is  the  way  ?  "  cried  she  in  alarm. 

"Just  a  little  farther  in  this  direction,  Signorina, 
by  those  bushes." 

They  went  around  to  the  side  of  the  hill  and  here 
was  only  brush  covering  the  hillside.  They  returned 
to  their  starting  point.  The  Italian  was  calm  and 
Theodosia  was  in  a  tempest. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  no  more 
observant  than  a  woman?  Are  we  lost?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  Signorina.  Do  not  be  alarmed,  I 
beg.  Sit  down  and  rest." 

"  I  will  not  be  calm  a  minute  until  I  find  my  way 
back." 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  I  took  the  wrong  path.  I  see  the  correct  one 
now,  Signorina.  It  is  there  at  the  right." 

It  was  necessary  to  descend  the  perpendicular  side 
of  a  small  ravine  leading  in  the  direction  indicated. 
Ruspoli  braced  his  feet  on  the  bank  and  held  out 
his  hand  for  her  to  take. 

"  Now  you  must  put  your  arm  about  my  neck," 
said  he. 

"  You  are  doing  this  purposely,  Prince  Ruspoli.  I 
can  descend  fifteen  feet  alone,  even  if  the  slope  is 
vertical." 

Ruspoli  did  not  insist,  but  quickly  slid  to  the  bot- 
tom. Theodosia  followed  and  her  boot  slipped.  She 
rolled  down  the  embankment  into  Ruspoli 's  arms. 
Her  gown  was  soiled,  her  hands  and  face  were 
bruised,  and  her  temper  was  rising.  The  Prince 
made  no  effort  to  detain  her  as  she  rushed  way  from 
him,  exclaiming :  "  It  is  all  your  fault.  An  Ameri- 
can could  not  be  lost  like  this." 

"  I  followed  my  guide,  Signorina,"  answered  he 
patiently. 

They  walked  several  rods  the  length  of  the  ravine, 
and  Ruspoli  broke  the  brush  ahead  of  him  with  his 
hand.  It  was  the  first  time  Theodosia  had  thought 
him  strong.  They  climbed  twenty  feet  toward  the 
summit  of  the  hill,  the  thorny  bushes  closing  behind 

them.      Ruspoli  was  bending  forward  when  Theodosia 

223 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN   THE    WOOD 

heard  a  low  rattle.  An  instant  later  he  said  softly, 
"Go  to  the  bottom  quickly."  Then  he  picked  up 
several  rocks,  and,  hurling  them  at  something  on  the 
ground,  hastily  followed  her. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Only  a  rattlesnake,  Signorina. " 

"  Then  let  us  go  back  and  kill  it." 

"  No,  there  are  too  many  of  them.  We'll  return  to 
our  starting  place. " 

Often  losing  her  balance  she  stumbled  over  boul- 
ders and  bushes  in  scrambling  through  the  ravine. 
Ruspoli  suggested,  "  If  you  will  take  my  arm,  Signo- 
rina, you  can  walk  with  safety. " 

Theodosia  sullenly  made  her  way  alone,  aided  by  a 
stick.  They  reached  the  first  vertical  ascent.  Rus- 
poli paused  and  asked,  "  How  do  you  purpose  get- 
ting to  the  top,  Signorina?  " 

She  did  not  know. 

"  There  is  but  one  way,  and  it  is  for  me  to  carry 
you." 

She  glanced  indignantly  at  the  Italian  and  made 
the  effort  aided  only  by  a  cane.  She  fell  again, 
breaking  the  stick.  There  were  no  more  to  be  had. 
Then  she  dug  her  heels  into  the  ground  and  climbed 
on  her  hands  and  knees.  Her  failure  was  still  more 
ignominious. 

Ruspoli,  looking  at  her,  smiled,  shook  his  head, 
223 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCM 

and  said,  "  Poor,  obstinate  Signorina.  How  much 
trouble  you  make  yourself !  Will  you  let  me  carry 
you?" 

"  No,"  said  she,  seating  herself  on  a  rock.  He 
took  a  position  opposite  her. 

"  I  have  no  hat.  The  sun  has  given  me  a  head- 
ache. My  hair  is  snarled.  My  hands  are  bleeding. 
My  face  is  bruised,  all  because  you  are  an  impracti- 
cal Latin.  Do  you  suppose  Paul  Stryne  could  be 
lost  like  this  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  the  Prince  showed  impatience. 
His  eyes  flamed  like  fire  at  night.  His  teeth  were 
pressed  together.  "  Do  not  talk  to  me  of  him, 
Signorina.  I  will  not  endure  it.  You  shall  never 
go  back  if  you  do." 

"  You  brought  me  here  purposely  to  torture  me 
into  saying  'I  love  you.'  "  • 

"  It  was  not  necessary.  You  do  love  me.  You 
told  me  so  night  before  last." 

"  I  assured  you  positively  I  did  not,  Prince  Ruspoli." 

He  answered  her  with  a  scornful  shrug :  "  Words, 
words,  mere  words,  which  I  usually  doubt,  for  they 
are  so  often  false ;  but  heart  beats,  pulse  throbs,  and 
lips  do  not  lie,  Signorina,  and  they  were  mine." 

Unconsciously  to  her  he  approached  and  sat  on  the 
rocks  close  by.  Her  eyes  followed  his  as  he  took 

her  hand  and  he  went  on :  "  Of  thy  own  free  will 

224 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE   WOOD 

thou  gavest  them  me  and  thou  canst  not  have  them 
back.  Every  minute  of  the  past  two  days  thou  hast 
been  here  in  my  arms.  I  have  drunk  thy  breath 
and  felt  thy  lips  cold  with  passion  until  I  am  mad 
as  thou  wert  when  we  both  kissed  those  violets." 

"  It  was  only  the  violets,"  said  she  softly. 

"  It  was  love,  my  life.  Thou  hast  struggled  against 
it.  Thou  hast  run  away.  Thou  canst  go  no  farther. 
It  is  here  confronting  thee.  Wilt  thou  accept  it?  " 

"It  was  not  love,"  answered  she  determinedly, 
releasing  her  hand  from  his. 

"  What  dyed  thy  cheeks  with  the  color  of  thy  blood, 
but  love,  as  I  spoke  just  now?  Thine  eyes  were 
heavy.  Thou  didst  hardly  breathe  as  I  recalled  that 
embrace.  What  did  it  mean  ?  " 

"  That  you  were  eloquent.  How  can  you  talk  of 
all  this  when  we  do  not  know  our  way  back  ?  It  is 
nearly  noon." 

"  It  is  nothing  to  me  if  we  never  go  back,  unless 
thou  sayst  what  I  long  to  hear. " 

"Night  will  come,"  shuddered  Theodosia. 

" Dio  mio"  said  he,  closing  his  eyes.  "That 
would  be  splendid,  like  being  alone  in  the  world 
with  thee. " 

"  Tell  me,"  asked  Theodosia,  "  do  you  know  how 

to  return  home  ?     Can  you  discuss  all  these  matters 

when  we  are  lost?     Did  you  do  this  intentionally?  " 

15 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Perhaps.     A  siege  is  always  cruel,  but  sometimes 
it  is  necessary  with  a  very  obstinate  enemy." 

Theodosia    asked,    "Then    I   am   to   be    starved 
out?" 

"  That  depends  upon  you.     I  fear  it  must  come  to 
that." 

"  Would  you  dare  keep  me  here  after  nightfall  ?  " 
"  Rattlesnakes  are  not  pleasant,  Signorina." 
"  I  suppose  you  do  not  mind  making  a  scandal." 
"  Not  at  all.     People  who  love  never  do." 
"  You  are  as  indifferent  to  me  as  to  yourself,  being 
a  dreadful  man." 

"  I  shall  expect  to  suffer  all  that  you  do." 
"  Then  I  am  to  remain  here  until  you  decide  I 
may  go  back  to  the  inn  ?  "  asked  she  in  desperation. 
"  No,  Signorina.     Only  until  you  conclude  that 
you  wish  to  return.      Do  not  confuse  them." 

"  I  will  never  speak  to  you  again,  Prince  Ruspoli," 
said  she  slowly  with  emphasis. 
"  Say,  rather,  until  you  wish  to  go  home." 
Then  he  arose  and  walked  away  from  her,  explored 
the  ravine,  the  sides  of  the  hill,  always  keeping  within 
call  but  quite  ignoring  her.     Three  o'clock  came  and 
he  returned  and  found  her  sitting  in  the  same  posi- 
tion.     Her  straight  brown  brows  were  bent  into  a 
frown.     At   four  o'clock  the  shadows  crept   down 

into  the  ravine.     Five  o'clock  and  in  the  dell  it  was 

226 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE   WOOD 

almost  dark.  Ruspoli  came  back  and  Theodosia  was 
lying  on  the  ground  weeping  piteously. 

He  bent  over  her  and  touched  her  hair.  Sobs 
convulsed  her  frame,  and  unresisting  she  allowed 
him  to  carry  her  in  his  arms  up  the  steep  ascent. 
Then  he  removed  his  coat  and  placed  her  thereon. 
Ruspoli  went  to  the  spring  and  returned  with  his 
handkerchief  wet,  and  bathed  her  hands  and  face. 

Presently  he  whispered,  "  Signorina,  do  you  wish 
to  go  home  ?  The  path  is  not  six  feet  behind  us. 
We  are  all  beasts,  we  men.  Dio,  to  think  I  could 
make  you  suffer !  My  atonement  is  I  can  never  ask 
your  pardon." 

Theodosia  arose  and  walked  feebly  and  humbly  by 
Ruspoli 's  side.  At  last  she  took  his  arm.  His 
glance  told  her  of  his  gratitude.  "  You  are  very 
tired,  Signorina." 

Theodosia  nodded  her  head.  They  ascended  the 
hill,  the  highest  of  the  group,  and  looked  down  upon 
the  valleys  surrounding  them.  The  sun  was  shin- 
ing in  the  west.  It  was  clear  day  on  the  summit. 
Hunger,  fatigue,  and  alarm  had  quite  unnerved 
Theodosia,  and  she  could  scarcely  restrain  sobs. 
Her  resolution  was  sadly  limp.  A  fallen  tree  barred 
their  way.  Instead  of  endeavoring  to  climb  over  it, 
she  seated  herself  on  the  log,  her  curls  falling  over 

her  face  and  hiding  it  from  view.     Ruspoli  solemnly 

227 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

sat  by  her  side  and  watched  every  motion.  Theo- 
dosia's  head  rested  on  her  knees.  Finally  the  Prince 
asked :  "  What  do  you  wish,  Signorina  ?  What  shall 
it  be?  Command  me." 

Her  tears  had  dried.  Only  a  quivering  of  the 
lips  told  of  her  past  storm,  as  she  looked  straight  in 
front  of  her  and  spoke  to  him  in  a  delicate  thread  of 
her  natural  voice :  "  You  compel  me,  Prince  Ruspoli, 
to  say  what  should  be  quite  obvious  to  you  and  un- 
necessary for  me  to  explain.  You  have  spoken  to 
me  of  love  and  deified  it  like  a  pagan.  I  suppose 
you  would  be  greatly  shocked  if  you  were  told  that 
you  are  not  a  man  of  honor,  that  you  deliver  rhapso- 
dies on  love  when  you  have  none  to  offer,  for  you 
understand  as  well  as  I,  that  your  heart,  your  words, 
and  your  body  belong  to  the  state  as  much  as  those 
of  your  cousin  the  King  of  Italy.  You  have  no  love 
to  give,  Prince  Ruspoli,  that  is  not  dishonor  to  both 
of  us." 

Theodosia  looked  squarely  at  him  as  she  uttered 
the  last  sentence.  Ruspoli 's  eyes  brightened,  as 
hope  took  up  its  abode  in  them. 

"  But  if  I  abandon  all  for  thee,  Signorina.  If  I 
offer  the  best  and  most  honest  love  a  gentleman  can 
give.  It  is  not  uncommon.  Don  John  of  Austria, 
not  many  years  ago,  gave  up  his  right  of  succession 

for  a  woman." 

228 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE   WOOD 

"  Not  one  sacrifice  for  me,  Prince  Ruspoli." 

"If  I  insist?" 

"  I  refuse. " 

"Signorina,  dearest  lady,  if  the  state  will  that 
thou  belong  to  me,  what  dost  thou  say  ? " 

"The  state  will  refuse." 

"  Ah,  no.  I  must  go  to  San  Francisco  imme- 
diately. I  see  new  avenues  opening.  There  is  my 
mother,  my  cousin's  wife,  the  best  and  noblest  lady  in 
the  world,  and  a  thousand  friends.  To  think  of  thee 
as  one  of  us,  as  mine — mine.  Dio!  How  the  word 
thrills  my  heart.  I  can  not  breathe  for  uttering  it. 
I  go  to  San  Francisco  to-night,  Signorina,  and  all 
that  language  can  express  shall  be  sent  to  Italy.  If, 
after  all,  the  state  wills,  the  King  commands,  what 
says  my  lady  given  of  the  gods,  Theodosia  ?  " 

She  was  mute. 

"Is  it  no,  my  life?  Tell  me."  He  was  peering 
into  her  face  to  read  her  thoughts.  She  plucked  a 
violet  growing  by  her  side,  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips. 
He  took  it  quickly  from  her  and  crushed  it  with 
kisses.  Then  he  knelt  as  at  the  feet  of  the  madonna, 
and  taking  her  hand  said,  "  I,  Alessandro,  here  under 
the  blue  sky  in  God's  presence,  vow  to  be  thine 
always  unto  the  end,  Theodosia."  Then  he  touched 
her  fingers  lightly  to  his  lips  and  added,  "  This  is  our 

betrothal." 

229 


Chapter  XX 
THEODOSIA  TORMENTS  HER   LOVER 

>N  learning  of  Ruspoli's  arrival  at  White 
Springs  and  before  meeting  the  Italian, 
Miss  Peyton  wrote  Stryne,  freeing  herself 
from  blame  for  the  Prince's  presence.  Since  the 
leader  of  the  Working  Men,  at  Theodosia's  request, 
had  left  his  campaign  at  the  critical  moment,  he 
returned  to  San  Francisco  in  no  very  good  humor. 

The  antipathy  of  Stryne  for  the  nobleman  was 
inexpressibly  aggravated  by  this  fruitless  journey. 
He  felt  that  he  had  been  tricked  by  Nob  Hill. 
When  again  he  spoke  before  his  men,  his  words  bit 
into  their  ears  with  the  acid  of  his  first  speeches. 
Disappointment  at  not  seeing  the  lady  of  his  quest 
lashed  his  vehement  energy  into  a  storm,  which, 
sweeping  over  the  city,  was  certain  to  elect  the 
nominees  of  his  party. 

Altho  Theodosia  was  still  at  the  springs  and  they 
had  no  other  friends  in  common,  the  socialist  encoun- 
tered the  Prince  by  accident  every  day.  Each  was 
repellant  to  the  other,  and  yet  they  were  mutually 

interested.     They   preferred  not  to   meet,  altho   it 

230 


THEODOSIA    TORMENTS  HER  LOVER 

seemed  inevitable.  There  is  a  hidden  reason  which 
the  sphinx,  Life,  refuses  to  divulge  why  two  men  at 
enmity  must  continually  confront  each  other  and  aug- 
ment the  hatred  existing  between  them. 

Theodosia  returned  to  town  three  days  before  the 
elections  were  to  occur.  She  was  interested  unto 
the  marrow  of  her  bones  in  the  results,  and  felt  that 
she  must  be  where  she  could  learn  the  first  returns. 
She  knew  that  with  success  any  career  which  a 
republic  can  give  was  possible  for  Stryne.  Some- 
times she  imagined  that  her  own  future  instead 
of  his  was  to  be  decided  by  the  voters  of  Cali- 
fornia. 

Two  days  before  election  she  was  on  her  way  to 
the  park  for  a  ride.  She  wore  a  black  habit,  the 
skirt  narrowly  escaping  the  ground,  and  a  high, 
glossy  hat,  around  which  was  draped  a  white  veil, 
that  waved  behind  her  with  her  hair.  She  was  ac- 
companied by  Adele  Whiting  and  Percy  Oglethorpe. 
When  they  passed  the  Working  Men's  Headquarters 
near  the  sand-lot,  they  met  Stryne.  He  was  leaving 
the  building.  Theodosia  shook  hands  with  him  from 
her  horse's  back. 

"  You  can  not  fail,  Mr.  Stryne.  We  shall  not  let 
you.  Your  men  simply  must  succeed." 

"  They   will,    Miss    Peyton.     It   is  inevitable.     I 

had  not  had  unbroken   sleep  in  a  month  until  last 

231 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

night.  The  battle  has  been  fought  and  won.  I  feel 
like  taking  a  holiday." 

"  Come  to  see  me,  since  you  are  so  much  at 
leisure." 

After  the  adieux  they  rode  rapidly  to  the  park. 
When  they  had  trotted  several  miles  in  the  invigora- 
ting November  air,  they  were  joined  by  another  rider 
on  a  sleek,  shining  black  horse.  It  was  the  Prince, 
who  saw  them  from  a  distance  and  overtook  them. 
Naturally  Adele  Whiting  and  Oglethorpe  rode  on 
ahead,  while  Ruspoli  and  Theodosia  fell  behind. 

"You  came  back  to  town  sooner  than  you  ex- 
pected, Signorina, "  was  his  first  remark,  for  her  treat- 
ment of  him  was  as  formal  as  when  they  first  met. 

"Yes,  I  returned  yesterday." 

The  Prince's  horse  started  with  the  rider.  Joy, 
which  had  been  so  clearly  written  on  his  face,  was 
changed  into  sadness.  Theodosia  looked  at  him  in 
admiration.  He  wore  a  tan  riding  suit,  and  his 
shoulders  never  seemed  so  broad  nor  his  waist  so 
small  as  then.  Sitting  erect  on  his  horse,  his  finely 
sculptured  nose  and  chin,  his  dead,  dark  eyes,  encir- 
cled with  heavy  shadows,  his  clear  olive  skin,  his 
compressed  lips,  his  manner,  the  inexpressible,  unseen 
something  which  everywhere  marks  a  man's  station 
— all  contributed  to  the  pleasure  he  gave  her 

eyes. 

232 


THEODOSIA    TORMENTS  HER  LOVER 

"  Is  it  right,  Signorina,  that  you  be  in  town  a  day 
and  I  unaware  of  it  ? " 

"I  find  it  most  natural. " 

Their  horses  were  walking  very  slowly.  "  I  never 
know  where  to  place  you,  Signorina.  I  think  I 
understand  you,  and  directly  there  is  something  new 
for  me  to  learn. " 

"  Perhaps  that  is  why  you  have  been  so  con- 
stant." 

Ruspoli  ignored  the  suggestion.  "When  I  saw 
you,  Signorina,  I  forgot  everything  but  that  last 
moment  when  we  were  alone  together  on  the  hill. 
You  will  probably  think  me  presumptuous,  but  I 
hoped  you  returned  from  the  Springs  to  surprise  me. 
Now  I  find  you  have  been  here  a  day.  I  might  have 
known  better/* 

"  No,  Prince.  I  came  back  to  hear  the  first  results 
of  election. " 

"  Signorina ! "  exclaimed  he,  breathing  heavily. 

"  I  am  extremely  interested,  you  know,"  added  she 
by  way  of  explanation. 

Ruspoli  contracted  his  thick,  black  brows  into  a 
frown,  his  teeth  biting  the  interior  of  his  under  lip. 
"  Do  not  speak  of  it,  I  pray,  Signorina,"  said  he  in  a 
gentle  whisper,  "  I  wrote  you  a  letter  to-day.  It  was 
sent  to  White  Springs." 

"  It  will  be  four  days  before  I  receive  it. " 
233 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  That  is  too  long  to  wait  until  I  tell  you  its  con- 
tents." 

Theodosia  saw  his  chest  rise  and  fall  quickly. 

She  knew  all  he  had  written.  "  Signorina,"  said 
he  slowly,  impressively,  "  I  have  news  from  Italy." 

She  had  read  it  in  his  voice. 

Theodosia  touched  her  horse  gently  with  the  crop 
and  he  trotted  rapidly.  They  were  near  Oglethorpe 
and  Miss  Whiting. 

"  Signorina,  when  may  I  see  you  to  give  it  you  ? 
This  afternoon,  after  we  shall  have  ridden  home  ? " 

"  No,  Prince.     I  shall  be  too  tired." 

"This  evening,  then,  Signorina,"  pleaded  he. 

His  love  was  in  his  eyes,  on  his  lips.  She  was 
childish  enough  to  wish  to  know  the  end  of  a  story, 
yet  womanish  enough  to  be  perverse  about  it,  "I 
have  an  engagement  for  this  evening  with  Mr. 
Stryne,  Prince  Ruspoli.  To-morrow  evening  if  it 
suits  you." 

Theodosia  desired  a  sequel  to  her  romance. 


234 


Chapter  XXI 
THE   GAGE  OF   BATTLE 

was  clear  to  Ruspoli  that  Theodosia's  an- 
swer was  an  evasion.  Let  him  try  with 
entire  will,  he  could  not  refrain  from  walk- 
ing to  the  sand-lot  that  evening.  For  the  first  time 
he  experienced  pleasure  in  seeing  Stryne.  He  was 
there  in  his  accustomed  place,  the  same  eager-eyed, 
open-mouthed,  mixed  throng  of  laborers  and  fanatics 
surrounding  him. 

The  Prince  was  so  happy  to  find  that  the  socialist 
was  not  with  Theodosia  that  he  approached  him 
closely  and  listened  attentively.  Warmed  by  the 
pleasure  of  the  surprise,  he  even  concluded  that  the 
agitator  might  be  a  charlatan,  a  demagog,  but  he  was 
not  a  bad  fellow. 

Stryne  had  not  altered  his  dress,  speech,  nor  manner 
since  his  prosperity.  He  stood  before  his  audience, 
the  future  master  of  the  State  of  California  and  the 
City  of  San  Francisco,  and  there  was  not  a  shade  of 
exultation  to  be  detected.  The  Strynites  keenly  ob- 
served him  and  awaited  some  sign  of  arrogance.  He 
was  dressed  in  his  blue  flannel  shirt  and  trousers. 

235 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

The  red  bandanna  handkerchief  encircled  his  full, 
thick,  strong  neck.  His  black  felt  hat  and  long  blue 
cloak  were  lying  by  his  side. 

In  spite  of  all  his  vehemence  there  was  the  same 
great  reserve  in  his  poise  that  had  never  been  rip- 
pled. Months  of  fatigue  in  the  political  campaign 
took  the  ruddy  health  from  his  countenance  and  hol- 
lowed the  setting  of  his  gray  eyes.  His  face  was 
somewhat  thinner,  but  otherwise  he  h?  1  not  altered 
since  the  working  men  rallied  about  him  and  his  cry, 
"  The  Chinese  must  go. " 

Meanwhile,  altho  the  Mongolians  were  still  the 
issue,  the  working  men  had  largely  forgotten  the 
evils  of  "coolie"  labor;  they  merely  knew  they 
were  to  vote  within  two  days  to  decide  if  Stryne  was 
to  be  their  Legislature,  their  Mayor,  their  Governor, 
their  United  States  Senator — the  next  boss  of 
California. 

When  the  speaker's  gaze  met  that  of  the  Italian, 
it  was  so  steady  and  unchanged  that  Ruspoli  imag- 
ined Stryne  did  not  see  him  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  looked  straight  at  him.  The  socialist  was  giving 
forth  in  new  form  his  beliefs  which  had  rung  into 
their  ears  since  the  beginning  of  his  career.  They 
listened  not  to  the  words  but  to  the  music  of  the 
voice.  They  felt  the  touch  of  the  man's  presence. 

They  were  unconscious   that   he   uttered  the  same 

236 


THE  GAGE  OF  BATTLE 


thoughts  repeatedly.  Stryne  held  them  not  only  by 
his  own  power,  but  the  shadow  of  that  which  was  to 
be  his  within  two  days.  The  strength  of  the  State 
was  in  his  personality. 

He  was  reviewing  the  especial  evils  of  the  govern- 
ment of  California,  local  corruption,  when  Ruspoli 
arrived.  He  continued  in  the  same  strain  for  several 
minutes.  Then  gradually,  before  the  audience  or  the 
Prince  realized  it,  he  spoke  of  the  faults  of  national 
government,  particularly  in  the  countries  of  Europe. 
Passing  lightly  over  evils  existing  in  France,  Eng- 
land, Germany,  and  Russia,  he  came  to  Italy  and 
drove  straight  at  it  with  a  purpose. 

Then  Ruspoli  realized  that  Stryne  had  observed 
him. 

"United  Italy!  Free  Italy!"  shouted  he.  "What 
a  mockery!  United?  United  in  one  thing  only, 
and  that  the  desire  to  kill  their  King.  Can  there  be 
union  while  there  are  a  million  subjects  plotting  at 
any  cost  to  overturn  the  throne  ? 

"  Free  Italy  is  a  word  the  poets  use.  Can  freedom 
exist  where  the  King  lives  in  a  palace,  squanders 
three  millions  a  year,  while  a  quarter  of  the  popula- 
tion are  mendicants,  begging  pennies  from  travelers  ? 
Can  freedom  prosper  when  a  libertine  is  on  the 
throne?  Can  a  people  be  better  than  their  God- 
given  ruler?  Can  liberty  thrive  while  one  root  or 

237 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

branch  of  the  corrupt  house  of  Savoy  is  allowed  to 
live?" 

The  Prince  was  accompanied  by  the  Italian  Consul 
Roma  and  a  Russian  naval  officer,  Lieutenant  Dal- 
garkoff.  They  both  understood  sufficient  English 
to  catch  the  significance  of  Stryne's  words,  so  they 
regarded  Ruspoli  intently  while  the  socialist  hurled 
phrases  at  him.  No  sooner  was  there  a  pause  than 
the  Prince  in  one  quick  breath  of  Italian  asked,  "  Is 
that  for  me,  S ignore?  " 

For  the  first  time  Stryne  appeared  to  observe 
Ruspoli.  "  You  are  the  house  of  Savoy  ?  Enough 
said." 

The  incident  passed  almost  unobserved.  Stryne 
inveighed  against  monarchies  and  monarchial  tenden- 
cies and  finished  by  again  warning  his  followers  how 
to  vote.  As  he  was  leaving  the  platform,  Lieutenant 
Dalgarkoff  and  Consul  Roma  met  him  and  asked,  in 
the  name  of  Prince  Alessandro  Ruspoli  of  the  House 
of  Savoy,  to  withdraw  what  he  had  said. 

"  Gentlemen,  one  can  not  retract  the  truth,"  an- 
swered Stryne. 

"Then  he  must  fight  for  it,"  responded  Roma  dra- 
matically. He  was  a  tall,  stout  man,  who,  in  spite 
of  his  red  face  and  corpulence,  still  retained  some  of 
the  grace  of  his  youth  when  he  had  been  a  great 
gallant. 


THE  GAGE  OF  BATTLE 


Stryne  bowed.  "  Of  course,  gentlemen.  At  any 
time  and  place  you  wish. " 

"  Our  friend,  Prince  Ruspoli,  has  commanded  me 
to  say  that  in  our  own  country,  owing  to  your  differ- 
ence in  rank,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  meet 
you  upon  the  field  of  honor,  but  since  he  is  in  a 
republic,  for  this  occasion  he  lays  aside  his  preroga- 
tive and  accords  you  the  favor  of  an  encounter  with 
any  weapons  you  choose." 

"  Prince  Ruspoli  is  very  good,"  answered  Stryne 
coldly.  "  There  is  no  weapon  with  which  I  am  un- 
familiar, gentlemen." 

"  Prince  Ruspoli  would  like  to  know  if  a  meeting 
to-morrow  morning  at  sunrise,  near  the  San  Mateo 
County  line,  will  suit  your  convenience." 

"  It  is  the  day  before  election,"  hesitated  Stryne. 

"Then  you  would  like  a  delay?  "  asked  the  Rus- 
sian disdainfully. 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  the  socialist  readily. 
"  The  details  you  may  arrange  with  Mr.  McCann  and 
Mr.  Van  Ness.  By  all  means  let  the  meeting  occur 
as  soon  as  possible.  To-morrow  at  sunrise  will  be  a 
most  convenient  hour.  It  will  not  interfere  with  my 
work  for  the  remainder  of  the  day." 

Political  economists  have  dissected  Strynism  in 
California.  Historians  have  fixed  his  proper  place 
in  the  story  of  the  State.  Poets  of  the  lowly  have 

239 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PR1XCE 

sung  of  his  noble  virtue,  but  no  one  has  recorded  the 
splendid  grace  of  his  heroic  sacrifice  when  he,  in 
those  last  words  for  honor's  sake,  cast  back  to  grim 
destiny  all  that  he  had — his  fortune,  his  life.  Then 
he  bravely,  fearlessly  stood  staring  into  the  nothing- 
ness of  the  future.  Yet  he  gave  up  his  all  with  the 
grace  of  a  gallant  who  tosses  a  rose  to  the  queen  of 
the  dance  and  wafts  after  it  a  kiss. 


240 


Chapter  XXII 
THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

JHEODOSIA  had  passed  the  evening  alone 
with  her  father.  She  wore  a  simple  cream 
lace  gown  with  crimson  roses  in  her  hair. 
Her  shoulders  and  arms  under  the  soft  light  of  the 
candelabra  were  like  white  satin.  Colonel  Peyton 
and  his  daughter  dressed  with  greatest  care  when 
they  were  to  be  alone  together,  and  the  father  espe- 
cially admired  her  in  her  lace  frock.  The  Colonel, 
with  his  closely  cropped  white  beard,  was  very  hand- 
some and  imposing  in  evening  clothes.  He  never 
was  more  agreeable  than  at  the  head  of  his  own 
table,  for  he  delighted  in  offering  Theodosia  the 
same  stately  courtesy,  sadly  old-fashioned  at  present, 
which  he  had  shown  her  mother. 

Colonel  Peyton  was  taking  his  after-dinner  doze. 
Theodosia  scanned  the  pages  of  new  magazines  and 
books  rapidly,  enjoying  thoroughly  the  pleasure  of 
being  quite  alone.  It  occurred  to  her  at  this  moment 
that  she  wasted  a  great  deal  of  time  with  trivial 
people  and  events. 

Paul  Stryne's  card  was  brought  her  half  after  nine, 
1.6  241 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

She  recalled  her  words  to  Ruspoli  that  afternoon. 
Jest  had  really  become  earnest.  The  socialist  was 
shown  into  the  library  where  she  was  sitting. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  you  ever  came  to  see  me  unso- 
licited, Mr.  Stryne.  Perhaps  after  election  day  this 
will  occur  more  often." 

His  white  face  rebuked  her  conventional  speech. 
He  was  dressed  in  his  customary  blue  suit  with  the 
red  of  his  handkerchief  showing  about  his  collar. 
Apparently  he  was  .oblivious  equally  to  her  own  and 
his  garments.  It  was  the  first  time  Theodosia  had 
seen  Stryne  overcome  by  an  emotion  stronger  than 
he. 

"Do  not  talk  lightly,  Miss  Peyton/'  said  he  ear- 
nestly, "  for  I  am  very  serious  to-night.  I  feel  that 
great  changes  are  coming." 

"  So  they  are,  Mr.  Stryne.  Day  after  to-morrow 
Mr.  Van  Ness  and  your  entire  ticket  are  to  be 
elected.  Isn't  it  splendid?  Do  you  know,  I  feel 
proud  of  you ;  I  have  a  sort  of  interest  in  you  as  if 
you  were  a  part  of  my  work,  my  own  creation.  You 
are  not,  tho.  I  never  could  help  you,  for  you  would 
not  let  me.  But  I  tried  hard,  did  I  not?  When 
you  are  all-powerful  and  no  longer  refuse  to  be  our 
Governor  or  United  States  Senator,  you  will  think  of 
me  as  some  one  who  really  wanted  to  do  something 

and  could  not. " 

242 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

Stryne  studied  her  expression  and  manner. 

Theodosia  chattered  on,  "  When  you  are  really  the 
boss  of  the  whole  world — I  never  liked  the  word  be- 
fore, but  I  do  now — I  am  going  to  find  some  one  who 
needs  a  position  and  you  shall  give  it  me.  You 
must,  for  I  want  to  be  a  sort  of  sub-boss.  May  I  ? 
It  will  be  such  fun,  actually  to  know  and  have  influ- 
ence with  a  boss.  But,  Mr.  Stryne,  why  do  you  not 
sit  down.  Don't  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to 
remain  but  a  second.  Please  do  not  try  to  be  fash- 
ionable." 

Miss  Peyton,  I  can  not  sit.  I  must  stand  on  my 
feet.  I  must  move.  My  heart  seems  weak.  I  am 
pretty  nervous." 

"  Only  to-day  you  were  so  calm  and  certain  of  vic- 
tory, but  as  the  time  approaches  the  strain  on  the 
nerves  must  be  something  dreadful." 

Theodosia  arose  and  stood  in  front  of  Stryne,  look- 
ing at  him  sympathetically.  "  I  must  leave  this 
house,  Miss  Peyton.  I  can  not  remain  boxed  up  in 
one  or  two  or  three  or  ten  rooms.  I  need  space,  air, 
distance.  I  must  have  action.  I  must  walk  or  I 
shall  lose  my  reason." 

Suddenly  he  turned  to  her  and  asked,  "  Will  you 
come  with  me?  I  need  some  one." 

Theodosia  motioned  with  both  hands  toward  her 
dinner  dress.  She  hastily  put  on  a  long  black  wrap 

243 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

which  enveloped  her  completely.  Then  she  said, 
looking  at  Stryne  understandingly,  "  Yes,  I  think 
it  best  that  you  have  some  one  with  you." 

They  left  the  house  and  and  he  walked  several 
blocks  in  silence,  dragging  her  along  heedlessly.  He 
went  with  such  speed  that,  exhausted  and  panting, 
she  exclaimed,  "O  Mr.  Stryne,  you  must  go  more 
slowly.  This  gait  is  too  rapid.  I  have  a  pain  in 
my  side." 

They  boarded  a  horse  car.  Before  they  had  been 
seated  long  Stryne  left  Theodosia  and  stood  on  the 
platform.  He  returned  just  as  they  reached  the  end 
of  the  line  on  the  Point  Lobos  road. 

"Come,"  said  he,  "let  us  go.  I  can't  remain 
longer  in  the  car." 

Theodosia  was  obedient  to  all  of  his  whims,  for  she 
felt  unable  to  resist.  She  understood  why,  in  less 
than  a  year,  he  had  gained  control  of  California.  It 
was  his  untamable,  invincible,  indomitable  will.  The 
girl  started  in  the  direction  of  the  city. 

"No,"  cried  he,  "not  back  to  the  town.  That  is 
only  for  sleep.  We  can  go  there  any  time.  For 
life,  freedom,  let  it  be  to  the  Cliff.  We  shall  walk 
there." 

Miss  Peyton  looked  at  the  hard  blue  sky,  clouded 
with  purple  and  black.  The  moon  could  hardly  show 
her  face.  There  was  a  sharp  cold  ocean  breeze  and 

244 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

a  possibility  of  rain.  They  could  not  see  far  ahead 
in  the  darkness. 

"  Let  us  walk  to  the  Cliff,"  again  urged  Stryne. 

It  was  an  impulse.  It  was  imprudent.  It  was  ex- 
traorjlinary.  It  was  dangerous.  These  were  suffi- 
cient reasons  for  Theodosia  to  consent. 

During  the  first  half  hour  they  almost  ran  over 
the  level  ground.  The  next  thirty  minutes  their 
speed  slackened.  Even  Stryne's  force  began  to  give 
way.  They  stood  on  the  hill  overlooking  the  vast, 
roaring,  black  ocean.  The  moon  had  almost  entirely 
disappeared.  Only  great  stretches  of  sand  behind 
them  and  at  the  side  lighted  the  landscape.  From 
whichever  direction  they  turned  came  the  wind  in 
gusts.  In  the  sky  fearful  clouds  were  meeting  and 
retreating  with  the  chaos  and  thunder  of  contending 
armies. 

"  Ah,  one  can  breathe  here !  "  said  Stryne,  taking 
off  his  hat.  Theodosia  was  too  fatigued  for  speech. 
She  turned  her  broad,  fur  collar  up  around  her  ears 
and  buried  her  hands  in  her  pockets.  They  stopped 
quite  still  and  surveyed  the  scene  surrounding  them. 
A  light  no  larger  than  the  flicker  of  a  candle  at  the 
top  of  Cliff  House  was  the  only  touch  of  town  in  the 
wildness  before  them. 

They  walked  slowly  down  the  hill,  avoiding  the 
Cliff  House,  and  ascending  to  the  edge  of  the  ocean. 

245 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Several  drops  of  cold  water,  sharp  as  thistles,  fell, 
scratching  the  soft  cheeks  of  Theodosia. 

"  It  is  raining,"  said  Stryne,  somewhat  alarmed. 

"No  matter  if  it  is,"  answered  she.  "I  wish  I 
were  a  sailor  in  nothing  but  storms  of  waves  moun- 
tains high.  I  am  made  of  rather  common  earth,  Mr. 
Stryne,  but  if  ever  I  am  capable  of  anything  above 
the  ordinary,  it  is  in  a  tempest  like  this.  You,  I 
fancy,  are  always  lofty  and  noble.  I  am  so  only  in 
spurts.  It  needs  some  force  like  St.  Peter's  organ, 
Wagner's  music,  or  a  great  storm  to  lift  me  out  of 
my  selfishness." 

They  walked  up  to  where  the  wall  of  the  Cliff 
House  shivered  on  the  ocean  beach.  Then  they 
went  back.  Water  no  longer  fell  from  the  clouds. 
Stryne  considered  carefully  what  Theodosia  had  said 
before  he  answered :  "  Do  not  make  the  mistake, 
Miss  Peyton,  of  supposing  that  any  one  is  very  much 
better  or  nobler  than  his  neighbor.  There  are  hideous 
mysteries  lying  at  the  bottom  of  every  sea.  We  all 
have  about  the  same  number  of  black  spots  on  us. 
Some  keep  them  a  bit  better  covered  than  others. 
That  is  all.  I  have  not  seen  you  often,  but  I  know 
you  pretty  well  for  all  that,  and  I  call  you  the  most 
remarkable  woman  I  ever  met. " 

"  Mr.  Stryne,  do  not  say  that,  or  I  shall  think  you 

are  laughing  at  me.     You  know  I  am  a  drone.     I 

246 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

never  had  a  thought  for  any  thing  or  person  until  we 
met.  You  yourself  spoiled  my  little  endeavor  at 
doing  something.  My  spasm  gave  out,  and  I  am 
what  I  always  was  and  shall  be,  a  woman  with  much 
ambition,  but  lacking  energy  to  fulfil  it." 

"  What  you  say  may  all  be  true,  yet  I  reassert  you 
are  the  most  remarkable  woman  of  my  acquaintance, 
not  for  what  you  are  but  for  what  you  might  become. 
You  do  not  realize  that  very  few  people  have  told  you 
the  truth.  There  are  always  so  many  reasons  why 
you  should  be  lied  to.  Ever  at  your  elbow  was  a 
sycophant  with  something  tangible  or  intangible  to 
gain.  No  serviceable  falsehood  was  neglected.  You 
are  a  miracle.  You  have  developed  amidst  this  at- 
mosphere of  time-serving,  into  a  gentle,  lovable 
woman  with  a  mind  bursting  with  activity  for  another 
life." 

Theodosia  was  swept  along  with  the  rapid  stream 
of  Stryne's  utterance. 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  unusual,  but  you  do  under- 
stand my  inclinations." 

"  What  might  you  have  become,  Miss  Peyton,  had 
you  been  cast  into  other  circumstances,  where 
you  must  rely  upon  yourself,  work  for  yourself? 
Why,  there  is  nothing  you  could  not  have  accom- 
plished." 

The  rain  beat  upon  Theodosia's  face  as  they  walked 
247 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

on  the  beach,  yet  she  was  unheeding.  "  Do  you 
think  so?  "  asked  she. 

"  It  is  not  too  late  now,  Miss  Peyton.  You  are 
twenty- two,  just  beginning  life.  You  have  half  a 
century  more  of  existence.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Waste  it,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Stryne,"  said  she,  shak- 
ing her  head  sadly.  "  What  else  can  I  do  ?  I  am 
like  a  blind  man  with  talent  for  drawing.  It  is  use- 
less. No  one  can  give  me  sight." 

"  You  really  want  to  see,  Miss  Peyton  ?  With  all 
your  soul  do  you  desire  to  act,  to  live  all  there  is  in 
life,  to  be  on  the  cap  of  the  highest  wave  of  every- 
thing that  occurs  ?  Do  you  want  to  escape  the  nar- 
row, ruinous  existence  which  will  destroy  your  great- 
ness just  as  surely  as  it  continues  ?  Do  you  honestly 
long  to  be  Theodosia  Peyton,  the  splendid  heroic 
woman  lying  dormant  in  Theodosia  Peyton,  the  idler, 
the  coquette?  Tell  me." 

The  breakers  were  crashing  at  his  feet.  Barbs  of 
water  were  stinging  her  flesh  and  wetting  the  fluff  of 
yellow  hair  curling  from  her  broad,  low  brow.  His 
back  was  toward  the  ocean,  and  she,  looking  up  into 
his  face,  answered :  "  Indeed,  Mr.  Stryne,  you  out- 
line for  me  just  what  I  wish  to  become,  ff  you  have 
the  secret  of  how  it  can  be  accomplished,  give  it  me." 

"  You  are  willing  to  shake  off  the  indolence,  the 
248 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

falsehood,  the  conventions  which  oppress  you  ?  Rec- 
ollect it  is  a  great  deal  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  do 
and  be." 

"  I'm  willing  to  be  anything,"  breathed  she  in 
ecstasy. 

Stryne  led  the  way  slowly  to  a  group  of  boulders, 
close  to  the  shelter  of  the  embankment  of  the  Cliff. 
They  were  seated  on  a  low  flat  rock  protected  from 
the  wind  and  storm  by  one  broader  and  higher. 
Theodosia  was  equal  to  the  severity  of  his  gaze. 

"  Remember  this,  Miss  Peyton,"  began  he,  delib- 
erately striking  a  sharp  emphasis  on  each  word,  "  I 
have  never  asked  a  man  or  woman  what  I  should  do. 
More  than  that,  when  I  decided  upon  action  I  consid- 
ered no  one.  Do  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  You  look  like  that  sort  of  man,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"  You  have  the  distinction,  or  whatever  you  may 
call  it,  of  being  the  only  person  who  has  swayed  me 
since  my  career  began,  which  was  not  a  year  ago  here 
in  San  Francisco,  as  you  imagine,  but  a  decade  since  in 
my  brain.  No  one  knew  it  but  I.  A  trivial  step  in  it 
will  be  the  election  of  my  ticket,  day  after  to-morrow." 

Theodosia  was  very  close  to  him.  Elation  closed 
her  throat  as  she  asked  eagerly,  "  Mr.  Stryne,  how 
have  I  influenced  you?  " 

"  I  can  not  tell  you  yet.     It  may  be  that  you  will 

alter  my  entire  life.     That  we  shall  both  know  later." 

249 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"I?     I  do  not  comprehend." 

"  You  will  in  the  future.  All  I  can  say  now  is 
that  I  came  to  see  you  this  evening  to  decide  for  me 
what  I  shall  do.  Shall  I  leave  San  Francisco  to- 
morrow? Will  you  go  with  me?  Do  not  speak 
now.  You  said  you  wished  to  cut  your  way  out  of 
the  high  hedge  of  conventions  which  separates  you 
from  all  that  is  worth  while." 

He  gripped  her  small,  soft,  tapering  hand  in  his 
vise  of  steel.  "  I  ask  you,  Miss  Peyton,  to  be  my 
friend,  my  companion,  my  wife." 

Theodosia  would  have  withdrawn  from  him,  but 
he  held  her  powerless  with  the  one  hand.  "  I  did 
not  think  of  that  method,  Mr.  Stryne,"  stammered 
she. 

"  It  is  the  only  way." 

"  Your  future  ?  The  election  day  after  to-morrow, 
why  leave  them  all  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  won.  What  more  is  there  for 
me  to  do  ?  I  will  make  another  career.  You  do 
not  realize  it  now,  but  you  and  I  must  be  married. 
We  are  bound  absolutely  together.  We  can  not 
escape  it  if  we  try.  What  will  my  men,  who  have 
served  me,  think,  if  I  make  Colonel  Peyton's  daugh- 
ter my  wife  ?  I  can  not  convince  them  that  you  be- 
lieve with  us.  You  represent  directors  of  corpora- 
tions, people  who  have  liveried  servants,  their  enemies. 

250 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

In  their  eyes  I  shall  be  of  that  class.  If  I  am  to 
have  you,  and  I  must  have  you,  for  we  belong  to 
each  other — it  is  our  right,  our  duty — we  must  cut 
loose  from  all  these  connections  of  yours." 

"  Where  could  we  go  ?  " 

H  Anywhere  and  make  more  opportunities." 

"Where?" 

"They  are  in  New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia, 
London,  Paris,  Berlin,  Vienna,  Rome,  St.  Petersburg, 
in  any  place  where  there  are  great  throngs  of  people 
with  grievances.  We  have  only  to  choose  a  locality. 
We  shall  be  welcomed  as  liberators.  It  is  we  who 
will  do  the  rest.  A  whole  life  lies  before  us.  I  can 
see  it  there  awaiting  us,  radiant  and  gleaming." 

"I  suppose  we  could  go  abroad.  The  conditions 
in  Europe  need  so  much  improvement." 

"There  are  as  many  wrongs  in  America,  Miss 
Peyton,  and  the  people  are  more  easily  aroused  to 
action." 

"  Do  you  think  we  could  succeed,  Mr.  Stryne  ?  " 
questioned  she,  as  if  addressing  her  future — the 
sphinx  of  life. 

"  Look  at  the  past  year  and  ask  yourself.  What 
have  I  done  in  that  time  ?  I  control  the  entire  ma- 
chinery of  the  State.  More  than  that,  there  are 
forty  thousand  men  in  California  who  have  sworn 

allegiance  to  me.     I  am  greater  in  their  eyes  than 

251 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

the  State,  the  Nation.  I  can  march  at  the  head  of 
them,  if  I  choose,  to  Washington.  Our  numbers 
would  increase  at  each  step.  Each  of  those  men  is 
armed  and  would  die  for  me.  That  is  not  rhetoric, 
but  the  truth.  Within  six  months  I  could  have  an 
army  that  would  wipe  out  the  National  Guard  and  all 
our  troops.  Then  it  is  for  me  to  decide  what  I 
would  be.  It  only  needs  a  man  on  a  black  horse, 
provided  that  he  be  the  right  man." 

Theodosia  was  exalted  to  the  height  of  molding 
the  destiny  of  her  country,  an  object  which  ever  ap- 
peals strongly  to  the  ambitious  American  girl.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  was  just  beginning  to  live. 

"  Do  you  think  the  conditons  are  ripe  ?  " 

"  The  time  is  always  fit,  Miss  Peyton.  You  have 
not  studied  the  conditions  of  your  State,  but  when  I 
came,  the  people  were  merely  suffering  from  the  reac- 
tion of  a  boom.  Laborers  were  more  prosperous 
than  in  the  east.  There  was  no  real  reason  for  me 
that  lay  outside  of  myself.  Had  I  not  come,  the 
working  men  of  California  never  would  have  realized 
that  they  had  reason  for  complaint.  I  made  Stryn- 
ism  in  half  an  hour." 

"  It  was  wonderful,  Mr.  Stryne,"  said  she,  whisper- 
ing as  in  a  trance.  "  It  is  genius." 

"  Only  my  will,  Miss  Peyton.  I  was  stronger  than 
all  combined.  I  never  yet  found  a  force  that  can 

252 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

resist  my  will.  It  grinds  rock  to  powder  and  makes 
meal  of  flint.  You  will  not  stand  against  it  because 
I  love  you  and  my  love  has  the  power  of  my  will." 

Stryne  did  not  loosen  his  grip  on  her  hand.  Rain 
was  dripping  from  the  clouds.  It  was  a  wrathful 
night.  Wild,  white-maned  waves  broke  at  the  base 
of  the  Cliff  House  and  made  its  foundation  quiver 
with  fear.  Theodosia  felt  herself  growing  weaker 
and  Stryne  gaining  in  force  as  he  said  :  "  My  heart, 
my  soul,  my  mind,  my  will,  my  fate  demand  you  for 
my  comrade.  I  will  not  fawn  or  plead  or  whine  like 
a  stage  lover.  Passion  is  not  my  life.  It  is  action. 
You  will  know  to-morrow  when  we  go  away  that 
you  are  my  destiny  and  I  am  yours." 

Theodosia  sighed.  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  go,  Mr. 
Stryne."  Both  hands  held  her  one.  His  eyes  stared 
at  her  from  black  caverns  like  a  tiger's  in  darkness. 

"  You  don't  think  you  will  go  ? "  thundered  he ; 
"what  do  you  mean,  Miss  Peyton?  Are  you  to  be 
nothing  but  a  recollection  of  imbecility?  Do  you 
dare  play  the  coquette  with  me  ?  I  am  not  the  kind 
of  man  that  a  woman  like  you  can  seek  or  encour- 
age unless  she  be  in  earnest.  Are  you  mad  when 
you  say  you  don't  think  you  will  go?  What  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?  Is  it  that  damnable  Italian  ?  " 

"  You  are  crushing  my  hand/' 

"  Answer  me,  is  it  he?  " 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  Mr.  Stryne." 

"  A  woman  like  you  can  say  that  ?  Do  you  know 
that  if  you  become  his  wife  without  Humbert's  con- 
sent you  are  nothing  but  his  mistress  ?  " 

"  But  if  the  King  allows  it?  " 

"  Grant  the  absurd  possibility.  What  will  you  be? 
The  Princess  Ruspoli,  royal  by  a  morganatic  mar- 
riage. Is  that  your  ambition  ? 

"  You  do  not  dare  to  tell  me  that  a  woman  of  your 
intelligence  can  love  a  ridiculous  fellow  with  great 
staring,  meaningless,  vacant,  black  eyes  and  a  cour- 
tier's bow.  He  is  not  a  man  or  he  would  not  be 
dragged  behind  your  carriage,  fastened  to  your  train 
and  walked  upon  for  a  year.  I  credit  you,  Miss  Pey- 
ton, with  not  being  absurd.  If  it  is  not  he,  it  is  rank 
you  desire.  Good  God,  I  wouldn't  rule  Italy  as  a 
gift.  I  would  not  waste  my  energy  in  tearing  down 
that  miserable,  shaky  throne.  If  you  must  reign, 
why  not  take  something  worthy  of  you  ?  England, 
Russia,  or  America — North  or  South  ?  You  may  have 
your  choice,  and  I  will  deliver  it  within  the  year." 

The  passion  of  the  night,  the  ocean,  the  storm,  his 
voice  and  presence,  swept  her  before  it  like  water  in 
a  gale.  She  believed  all  he  said. 

"  What  will  society  say,  Mr.  Stryne  ?  Even  you 
know  nothing  of  your  family." 

"  My  people,  Miss  Peyton  ?     If  the  world  asks  for 
254 


(  l/N/VE 
THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM    \ 

them,  say  L'Ouverture,  Washington,  Lincoln,  Crom- 
well, Mirabeau,  Kossuth  are  my  brothers,  and  Revo- 
lution is  my  father." 

"  That  is  rather  indefinite,  is  it  not  ?  Society  asks 
so  much  more." 

"  Society !  Society !  You  who  are  going  to  be 
the  consort  empress  of  any  kingdom  you  wish,  allow 
society  to  question  ?  Why  do  you  not  arise  to  the 
dignity  I  offer?  Miss  Peyton,  you  are  to  be  society. 
Let  us  talk  of  that." 

"  It  is  all  so  sudden,  like  a  dream  of  another 
world,"  said  she  in  bewilderment. 

"Theodosia,  come,  rise." 

Mechanically  she  stood  in  front  of  him.  "To- 
morrow at  three  we  sail  for  New  York." 

Stryne  held  her  away  from  him  to  watch  her  coun- 
tenance. Almost  fainting  she  fell  forward  into  his 
arms  and  cried :  "  If  we  are  bound  together  as  you 
say,  let  us  launch  that  rowboat  and  go  wherever  the 
currents  carry  us.  We  may  as  well.  Life  is  so 
strange.  What  does  it  matter?  " 

"Theodosia,  do  not  act  like  that,"  exclaimed  he, 
thrusting  her  out  at  arms'  length.  "  Be  a  woman 
worthy  of  what  is  yours.  Strip  off  that  coat." 

He  tore  it  from  her  and  cast  her  hat  aside.  Her 
hair  clustered  about  her  shoulders  and  brow  like  an 
infant's. 

255 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

"Take  off  those  gloves,"  commanded  he.  Imme- 
diately she  obeyed  him.  Her  drenched  white  frock 
clung  to  her  form.  The  train  of  her  gown  was 
wound  about  her  feet.  Standing  on  the  rocks  in  the 
darkness,  her  white  arms  and  shoulders  dripping 
with  cold  water,  she  was  like  the  shadow  of  a  woman 
springing  from  the  sea. 

"  Now  stand  by  my  side,  bare  arms  and  shoulders 
to  the  tempest.  Let  it  beat  upon  you,  my  wife,  and 
do  not  flinch.  This  is  the  way  you  and  I  must  al- 
ways be  together." 

"  Cling  to  my  hand  or  I  shall  faint,"  gasped  she. 

"  Ah,  this  storm  is  divine,  Theodosia,"  exclaimed 
he,  holding  his  face  upward  to  the  clouds.  "  Our 
birth  has  taken  place  in  it." 

Theodosia  reeled  toward  him  but  he  held  her  erect. 
"I  am  nothing  but  clay,"  she  cried,  "and  you  are 
trying  to  make  iron  of  me." 

Stryne  grabbed  her  in  his  arms  to  prevent  her  from 
striking  on  the  rocks.  She  was  limp  and  unconscious. 
He  wrapped  her  in  his  long,  heavy  cape,  and  calling 
a  carriage  from  the  Cliff  House,  he  placed  her  inside 
and  gave  her  warm  drinks. 

When  she  regained  consciousness  they  were  on 
their  way  to  the  city.  Her  cold,  wet  clothing  had 
been  warmed  by  the  heavy  blankets  enfolding  her. 
It  seemed  to  Theodosia  that  she  was  recovering  from 


THE  BETROTHAL  IN  THE  STORM 

the  effects  of  a  narcotic.  Altho  she  did  not  open 
her  eyes  until  she  had  recalled  every  incident  of  the 
evening,  she  felt  that  he  was  sitting  by  her  side,  re- 
garding her.  They  had  begun  to  climb  and  descend 
hills  before  she  looked  at  him.  As  she  expected,  he 
was  watching  for  that  sign  of  consciousness. 

Her  hands  were  inside  the  blankets.  She  felt  with 
relief  that  he  could  not  touch  her.  Stryne's  face  was 
coarse  as  she  looked  at  him.  His  eyes  were  small 
and  cruel,  his  head  and  neck  too  large.  In  his  ugli- 
ness lay  his  power.  Yet  she  recalled  that  during  the 
evening  she  had  thought  him  handsome. 

The  carriage  was  closed.  In  town  there  were  no 
organ  tones  of  the  wind  to  excite  her  senses.  The 
black,  raging  clouds,  the  vast,  tumbling,  heaving, 
roaring  sea,  the  lightning  playing  above,  arousing 
her  nervous  imagination,  were  absent.  Stryne  him- 
self was  silent.  Only  the  drizzling  rain  fell  upon 
her  ear.  The  scene  was  as  disenchanting  as  an 
empty  opera  house  after  a  performance  of  the  Val- 
kyrie. 

Presently  she  closed  her  eyes  to  avoid  Stryne's 
gaze  and  sat  back  in  her  seat.  He  felt  her  pulse  to 
see  if  she  was  faint.  Theodosia  was  happy  that  he 
made  no  attempt  to  caress  her.  She  almost  shud- 
dered as  he  touched  her  wrist.  What  folly  it  was  to 

fancy  she  could  marry  him !     No,  he  was  merely  a 
*7  257 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

story  to  read,  then  to  close  the  covers  of  the  book 
and  to  put  it  away  forever. 

The  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  her  home.  Stryne 
clinched  her  wrists  in  his  hands.  He  looked  at  her 
intently  and  said : 

"Remember,  Theodosia,  to-morrow  at  three  the 
South  American  steamer.  I  will  come  for  you  at 
one.  My  entire  life  is  staked  upon  your  going.  I 
shall  rely  upon  it." 

His  voice  brought  back  the  scene  at  the  Cliff. 
The  possibility  was  not  so  remote  as  before  he  spoke. 
Some  of  the  storm's  grandeur  was  in  his  being. 
With  his  hands  pressing  her  wrists,  the  blood  was 
forced  back  into  her  heart,  her  will  was  given  up  to 
his.  She  was  quite  honest  when  she  answered,  "  I 
will  be  ready." 

At  the  door  she  repeated  the  vow.  The  moon 
shone  brilliantly  between  the  black  clouds,  and  as  he 
stood  uncovered,  the  band  of  scar  was  distinctly  visi- 
ble on  his  forehead.  They  parted  in  the  same  spot 
where  they  met.  He  stood  in  a  like  attitude  when 
she  first  opened  the  door  upon  him.  After  all  he 
was  not  to  be  despised. 

It  was  Stryne  who  watched  the  light  in  her  cham- 
ber turned  out.  He  did  not  know  that  she  cast 
away  all  her  clothing  and  went  shuddering  to  sleep. 


Chapter  XXIII 
THE  DUEL 

NESS  and  all  Stryne's  political  friends 
used  the  most  forceful  arguments  to  dis- 
suade the  leader  from  a  duel.  The  nomi- 
nee for  governor  declined  to  serve  as  second  the  day 
preceding  elections.  He  reasoned  that  it  would  be 
disastrous  to  him  as  well  as  to  his  chief. 

"  The  time  has  passed  for  dueling  in  California, 
Stryne.  It  will  only  mean  the  defeat  of  the  entire 
ticket  if  it  occurs,"  declared  Van  Ness.  "What  if 
something  serious  should  happen  ?  If  you  were  un- 
fortunate enough  to  be  wounded,  our  ticket  would 
be  elected;  but  suppose  Ruspoli  should  fall,  every 
candidate  would  be  slaughtered.  Delay  until  the 
day  following  election,  then  I  shall  be  happy  to  serve 
you." 

"  You  do  not  understand  the  situation,  Van  Ness. 
I  shall  ask  no  favor  of  Ruspoli,"  said  Stryne.  "  I 
am  fully  prepared  for  any  event.  I  am  sorry  you  can 
not  act  as  my  second,  but  the  duel  must  take  place 
to-day. " 

This  was  a  conversation  which  occurred  at  two 
259 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

o'clock  the  morning  of  the  meeting.  McCann  had 
served  under  every  political  flag  and  chief.  He 
never  deserted  his  leader  so  long  as  there  was  hope 
of  success.  He  was  very  happy  to  make  himself 
useful  to  a  man  of  Stryne's  power. 

"  Philosopher  "  Picket,  an  erratic  lawyer  who  ac- 
quired his  title  through  a  useless  and  vague  knowl- 
edge of  an  infinity  of  topics,  was  chosen  in  Van 
Ness's  place.  Picket  offered  no  dissuasion,  for  he 
was  a  swarthy  Southerner  of  the  type  wearing  a 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  long  coat.  He  was  always 
armed,  had  assisted  at  many  duels,  and  could  con- 
ceive of  no  other  method  of  adjusting  differences  of 
belief.  He  was  familiar  with  the  codes  duello  of 
the  United  States,  England,  and  the  continent,  and 
was  never  happier  and  more  at  ease  than  when  ar- 
ranging a  meeting  between  two  gentlemen. 

It  was  Picket  who,  at  the  interview  between  Con- 
sul Roma  and  Lieutenant  Dalgarkoff,  led  the  conver- 
sation, fixed  upon  the  weapons,  time,  and  place. 
McCann  merely  listened,  for  he  knew  less  about 
dueling  than  anything  else.  The  smell  of  powder 
always  startled  him. 

Ruspoli  slept  a  little  that  night  and  Stryne  did 
not  go  to  bed.  He  passed  the  remaining  hours  at 
the  Working  Men's  Headquarters,  reading  a  diction- 
ary. His  friends  cited  this  as  an  instance  of  his 

260 


THE  DUEL 


wonderful  coolness,  but  really  it  was  an  indication  of 
nervousness.  When  his  mind  strayed  beyond  his 
will  he  brought  it  back  with  the  hard  facts  of  a  dic- 
tionary. He  did  not  prepare  for  death  and  gave 
orders  to  his  subordinates  who  lingered  with  him, 
saying  he  would  return  at  ten  o'clock. 

Ruspoli  made  a  testament,  wrote  a  letter  to  Theo- 
dosia,  left  one  for  his  mother  and  another  for  the 
King  of  Italy.  They  were  given  to  Consul  Roma  to 
be  delivered  in  the  event  of  his  demise. 

About  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  several  carriages 
left  different  parts  of  San  Francisco  and  drove  south- 
ward about  ten  miles  to  near  the  San  Mateo  boundary 
line.  The  air  bit  upon  the  flesh,  and  the  wind  from 
the  ocean  seemed  frozen.  The  drivers  frequently 
lost  their  way  in  the  intense  darkness  heralding  dawn. 
They  proceeded  slowly  like  a  funeral  train. 

Finally  they  drew  up  on  the  broad  embankment  of 
a  creek,  so  dark  and  sluggish  that  it  had  forgotten  to 
flow.  Ruspoli  and  his  friends  were  already  present. 
Stryne  brought  with  him  the  seconds  and  a  surgeon. 
Another  carriage  containing  some  of  his  followers 
who  had  learned  of  the  duel  soon  arrived.  They 
awaited  silently  the  break  of  -day,  the  signal  for 
preparation.  Soon  came  the  grayish-pink  dawn  and 
the  breeze  was  stronger.  In  the  canon  where  they 

were  the  shadows  had  not  risen.     It  was  still  night. 

261 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Carriages  were  left  at  the  roadside  and  all  walked 
up  a  valley  where  the  sward  widened  and  there  was 
a  broad,  green,  level  space.  Ruspoli  was  one  of  the 
best  pistol  shots  in  Italy,  and  Stryne  was  famous  for 
his  accuracy  and  aim.  So  those  weapons  had  been 
selected  by  the  seconds. 

The  followers  of  the  Prince  and  Stryne  separated 
into  two  groups.  Picket  held  a  consultation  with 
Consul  Roma  and  Dalgarkoff.  McCann  looked 
wonderingly  on  and  hoped  they  would  both  fire  into 
the  air. 

The  pistols  were  examined  and  loaded.  Stryne 
secured  the  choice  of  weapons  by  the  toss  of  a  dol- 
lar. Dalgarkoff  marked  off  the  ten  paces  agreed 
upon  by  both  sides. 

Stryne  stood  apart  and  did  not  busy  himself  wish 
the  details.  His  brow  was  quite  placid,  but  his 
mouth  bent  downward  in  determination.  He  waited 
patiently  for  proceedings  to  be  finished.  His  friends, 
less  accustomed  to  similar  scenes  than  the  foreign- 
ers, were  ill  at  ease  and  restless.  McCann  gripped 
the  socialist's  hand  and  turned  away  his  face.  Only 
Philosopher  Picket  was  master  of  himself. 

Consul  Roma  warned  all  to  avoid  the  line  of  fire. 
The  principals  took  their  places.  Ruspoli  faced  the 
morning  light  and  raised  his  eyes  reverently  as  a 

worshiper  of  the  sun.     The  wind  was  warmer.     The 

262 


THE  DUEL 


scent  of  morning  was  in  the  air.  Trees  and  grass 
blended  into  a  thousand  shades  of  green.  Life  and 
the  day  were  young  and  beautiful.  There  was  every 
reason  to  live. 

The  Prince  removed  his  hat.  Roma  held  it  in  his 
hands.  Then  the  Italian  took  off  his  overcoat.  He 
was  clad  in  the  gold  and  blue  uniform  of  the  naval 
officer  when  in  dress  parade.  A  ruffle  of  lace  peered 
out  from  the  neck  of  his  coat,  the  highest  button  of 
which  was  unfastened.  He  stood  six  feet  in  his  var- 
nished, high-heeled  boots,  as  erect  as  a  slender  young 
tree  unbent  by  years  or  storms. 

Ruspoli  was  freshly  shaved ;  his  hands  were  recently 
manicured,  his  hair  was  brushed  straight  back  from  his 
brow  as  tho  he  were  going  to  a  ball  or  wedding.  His 
countenance  was  saffron,  his  lips  were  crimson  like 
the  sun  flaming  above  the  hilltops,  and  his  black, 
mysterious  eyes  glowed  with  exultation.  His  finely 
chiseled  brow,  nose,  and  chin  stood  out  like  a  draw- 
ing on  white  paper.  Apparently  he  was  not  nervous. 
He  was  as  calm  as  Stryne  or  any  one  but  Picket. 

The  Philosopher  remarked  to  his  principal :  "  You 
don't  need  to  kill  the  Prince.  He  is  dead  already. 
Stick  a  knife  into  him  and  he  would  not  move." 

The  agitator  was  disheveled  and  showed  the  effects 
of  lack  of  sleep.  He  was  wrapped  in  his  long  blue 

cloak,  which  he  laid   aside.     Then  he  took  off  his 

263 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

coat,  and,  in  his  blue  trousers  and  flannel  shirt,  ex- 
posing his  bare  neck,  stood  stalwart  like  a  man  carved 
out  of  rock.  His  square  posture,  the  turn  of  his 
big  bony  head,  the  straight,  heavy  brows,  the  mold 
of  his  wrist  and  hand  showed  Stryne's  spirit  deter- 
mined to  remain  in  life.  There  was  a  touch  of  bra- 
vado, of  daring  in  his  manner  not  characteristic  of 
him.  As  he  looked  at  the  Prince  his  glance  was 
almost  contemptuous. 

Ruspoli  caught  the  expression  and  came  out  of  his 
impassive  attitude.  He  slowly  walked  the  ten  paces 
to  Stryne  and  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"  Signore, "  said  he  in  Italian,  "  I  feel  that  you 
have  deliberately  provoked  this  meeting.  In  Italy  it 
would  be  impossible.  My  only  reason  for  making 
the  concession  is  that  you  are  honored  with  the 
friendship  of  the  lady  whom  I  have  chosen  to  be  my 
wife.  We  are  equals,  Signore.  Addio." 

The  socialist  rarely  allowed  his  exterior  to  betray 
his  inner  struggles.  Still  those  observing  saw  his 
mouth  tighten,  and  a  look  that  would  give  no  quarter 
come  into  his  eyes.  But  Stryne  merely  saluted  the 
Italian,  who  returned  to  his  post.  Soon  the  punc- 
tilios of  the  code  were  observed.  Consul  Roma  ap- 
proached the  socialist,  made  a  feint  of  seeking  con- 
cealed weapons,  touched  his  waistcoat,  bowed,  and 

withdrew. 

264 


THE  DUEL 


McCann  crossed  to  the  Prince,  unbuttoned  his 
coat,  and  searched  in  every  pocket  for  hidden  arti- 
cles. Then  he  passed  his  hands  over  Ruspoli's 
chest.  It  was  the  first  time  the  Italian  showed  irri- 
tability, and,  altho  he  submitted,  he  frowned  and 
tore  into  the  flesh  of  his  lips  with  his  white,  strong 
teeth.  This  clumsy  action  of  McCann  disturbed 
Ruspoli's  poise.  He  took  all  the  loose  coins  from 
his  pocket  and  gave  them  to  his  opponent's  second. 
Stryne  also  threw  his  money  to  Roma,  scattering 
some  of  it  on  the  grass. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done,  and  the  two 
men  faced  each  other  while  their  seconds  cocked  the 
pistols  and  set  the  hair  triggers.  Then  they  were 
given  into  the  hands  of  the  combatants.  The  so- 
cialist and  the  prince  measured  the  distance  between 
them  with  their  eyes.  Their  friends  and  seconds 
realized  that  the  battle  was  to  be  earnest  and  it  was 
the  doomsday  of  one  of  them.  The  time  was  come 
when  they  felt  the  earth  could  no  longer  contain  them 
both. 

Lieutenant  Dalgarkoff  read  the  conditions  of  the 
meeting  in  slow,  labored  English.  Philosopher 
Picket,  with  what  he  considered  his  most  telling 
dramatic  tones,  reserved  especially  for  affairs  of 
honor,  gave  elaborate  instructions  as  to  the  firing. 

It  was   a  nice  occasion  and  called  for  deliberation 

265 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

and  all  of  Picket's  most  effective  adjectives.  Duels 
were  becoming  infrequent  in  California. 

The  men  stood  looking  at  each  other,  perhaps  for 
the  last  time.  The  muzzles  of  their  weapons  hung 
toward  the  ground.  There  was  an  instant  of  pain- 
ful silence  which  no  one  hurried  to  break.  It  seemed 
hours  to  Ruspoli.  Finally  he  turned  his  head  toward 
Roma. 

"Gentlemen,"  asked  the  Consul  impressively, 
"are  you  ready?  "  There  was  eagerness  on  the  part 
of  both  to  answer — "  Ready." 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  Roma  delayed  a  sec- 
ond longer,  apparently  hoping  that  something  at  the 
last  moment  would  prevent  the  duel.  The  Prince 
once  more  looked  at  his  second.  It  was  becoming 
embarrassing,  for  Stryne  and  his  friends  appar- 
ently imagined  the  hesitation  was  instigated  by 
Ruspoli. 

"  Fire !  One ! "  rang  out  lingeringly  like  the  toll- 
ing of  a  bell. 

There  was  a  report  from  a  pistol.  It  was  the  Ital- 
ian's. His  weapon  was  discharged  before  he 
brought  it  to  a  level.  The  lead  burrowed  into  the 
ground  a  yard  from  Stryne 's  feet. 

Ruspoli  had  made  an  excellent  shot,  but  it  had 
fallen  short  of  the  mark.  The  hair  trigger  of  his 

weapon  was  too  fine.     He  was  not  familiar  with  that 

266 


THE  DUEL 


particular  kind  of  a  pistol.  Stryne  had  won  the 
choice  of  weapons. 

In  a  second  there  was  a  crack  and  a  flash  in  the 
air.  It  was  the  socialist's  answer  to  Ruspoli.  With 
the  snap  of  the  pistol  the  Prince  flinched,  bent  his 
body  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  and  made  a  mighty 
effort  to  hold  himself  erect.  His  seconds  stepped  to 
assist  him,  but  he  waved  them  away.  Then  in  his 
endeavor  to  stand  firm  he  stretched  his  head  upward 
as  if  gasping.  He  could  not  maintain  an  upright 
position.  His  weapon  dropped  from  his  hand. 
His  skin  seemed  to  wilt.  He  drooped,  finally  fell 
prone  to  the  ground  and  lay  on  his  back,  his  great 
eyes  staring  upward. 

Stryne  silently  remained  in  his  position,  and  his 
quick  ears  caught  a  moan  from  Ruspoli  in  Italian,  so 
faint  that  Roma  barely  understood  and  comprehended  : 
"Theodosia,  Dio  mio  !  to  die  so!  O  my  bride  of 
the  violets  and  sunshine,  my  wife,  come,  or  I  shall 
never  again  see  thee !  " 

Fatalist  and  superstitious,  these  wild  words  nar- 
rowed Stryne's  existence  to  Theodosia,  the  Prince, 
and  himself,  and  he  was  certain  that  the  first  two  were 
secretly  married.  It  explained  her  hesitation  to  flee 
with  him.  As  Stryne  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Ruspoli, 
each  muscle  of  his  countenance  relaxed  as  though  he 
were  drunk.  In  that  second,  when  failure  unavoida- 

267 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

ble  confronted  him,  the  Prince's  whisper  hissed  and 
boiled  into  his  ears,  making  tumult  of  his  mind. 
Like  a  drowning  man,  his  life  in  fleeting  panorama 
passed  before  him,  and  he  saw  in  Theodosia's  yellow 
curls  the  snare,  entangled  wherein  he  had  taken  his 
first  step  toward  failure  and  was  now  facing  ruin. 
He  had  dreaded  that  specter  too  long  not  to  know  him 
when  they  met  as  well  as  he  would  have  recognized 
death.  A  cold  black  wall  seemed  to  shut  every  one 
from  his  sight.  He  was  glad  when  McCann  said : 

"  Your  man  is  hard  hit. " 

"The  gentleman  is  undoubtedly  badly  injured," 
remarked  Picket,  and  this  brought  Stryne  to  the 
necessity  of  considering  the  present.  His  thick 
arms  were  folded  on  his  chest.  The  muzzle  of  his 
pistol  projected  from  behind  him.  A  look  of  in- 
quiry came  into  his  eyes.  His  only  interest  in  the 
Prince  seemed  to  know  if  a  second  shot  was  expected 
from  him. 

"Your  honor  is  satisfied,  Mr.  Stryne,"  said  Picket. 

"  If  I  had  struck  two  inches  to  the  left  and  a  little 
lower  down,  the  shot  would  have  been  mortal,"  re- 
marked he,  and  the  blood  rushed  back  into  his  gray 
countenance. 

When  assured  of  the  helpless  condition  of  Rus- 
poli,  he  put  on  his  coat,  called  his  friends,  walked  to 

the   carriages  and  drove  to  the  city.     The  Consul 

268 


THE  DUEL 


who  saw  Stryne  leave  his  fallen  antagonist  without 
a  handclasp,  cried  to  Dalgarkoff:  "I  am  Ruspoli's 
friend,  and  I  will  not  see  murder  committed  like 
this.  Those  weapons  were  juggled  with.  Let  us 
follow  and  kill  that  scoundrel." 

The  Russian  replied :  "  If  we  are  Ruspoli's  friends 
we  will  remain  here  and  help  him." 

"  Not  the  sympathy  of  an  Indian  after  he  has 
tomahawked  his  victim. " 

The  surgeon  persuaded,  "  Be  calm,  gentlemen. 
Your  best  judgment  is  needed  by  the  Prince." 

Ruspoli  lay  in  the  Russian's  arms,  his  eyes  half 
closed  and  breathing  through  his  mouth.  His  life's 
reddest  blood  gushed  forth,  and  crimsoned  the  green 
carpet  of  grass  and  moss. 

When  the  medical  man  cut  away  the  fallen  com- 
batant's uniform,  tore  off  his  lace  and  linen  white 
shirt,  his  chest  and  wound  were  bared  to  sight. 
Even  the  surgeon  shivered.  With  each  breath  arte- 
rial blood  came  in  spurts,  staining  his  flesh.  The 
ball  had  torn  a  tortuous  course  among  the  vitals.  It 
entered  the  right  breast  between  the  second  and 
third  ribs,  fractured  the  edge  of  the  sternum,  sped 
over  the  heart  to  the  upper  lobe  of  the  left  lung  and 
proceeded  upward  through  the  arm  pit.  As  the 
blood  gushed  forth  it  seemed  that  there  could  be 

none  left  in  his  body.     Ruspoli's  hands  and  cheeks 

269 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

were  like  the  skin  of  an  Easter  lily.  He  lay  help- 
less and  nerveless. 

"  Stryne  said  the  wound  is  not  mortal,  that  his  aim 
was  bad.  Is  it  true,  doctor?  "  asked  Consul  Roma. 

"  His  aim  was  meant  for  nothing  but  death.  I 
do  not  see  how  it  could  be  improved  upon,"  an- 
swered the  surgeon. 

"Do  you  mean  the  Prince  is  dying?"  queried 
Roma. 

"  Look  at  that  red  blood,"  replied  the  physician. 

"  There  is  absolutely  no  hope  ?  "  asked  Dalgarkoff. 

"  He  has  youth  and  no  vices.  Perhaps  the  mira- 
cles happened.  If  they  did,  they  may  be  repeated." 

One  of  the  seconds  went  for  a  mattress  and  a 
spring  wagon,  while  the  surgeon  remained  to  bind 
up  the  wounds  and  check  the  great  flow  of  blood. 
When  the  Prince  spoke  it  was  with  intense  agony. 

They  begged  him  to  make  no  endeavor. 

Within  an  hour  after  he  fell  to  the  ground  he  was 
slowly  conveyed  to  the  large  comfortable  home  of  a 
prominent  rancher  close  at  hand.  There  he  was 
tenderly  placed  in  bed  by  his  physician  and  friends. 
It  was  from  this  place  that  the  public  had  the  first 
intimation  of  what  had  happened. 

In  San  Francisco  the  news  was  that  Prince  Rus- 
poli  was  dead.  It  sped  to  Theodosia,  and  crossed 

the  continent  and  sea  to  Italy. 

270 


Chapter  XXIV 
THE  LOSER  WINS 

|USY  San  Francisco  had  long  been  at  work 
when  the  information  was  posted  on  bul- 
letin boards,  shrieked  forth  by  newsboys, 
gossiped  about  at  the  clubs,  exclaimed  at  in  boudoirs, 
that  Ruspoli  was  killed  by  Stryne.  Van  Ness  was 
in  dismay.  Every  convert  to  the  Working  Men's 
party  hastened  to  declare  he  knew  it  could  not  be 
true.  Candidates  for  office  and  their  friends  who 
hoped  to  obtain  something  from  them,  were  horror 
stricken. 

On  the  other  hand,  Republicans  were  jubilant, 
not  over  Ruspoli's  death,  but  that  Stryne  was  de- 
feated. They  were  grateful  to  the  Prince  for  falling 
before  the  socialist's  pistol.  In  the  committee  rooms 
it  was  suggested  that  they  erect  a  monument  to 
Ruspoli. 

News  associations  telegraphed  to  the  most  remote 
villages  of  the  interior  that  there  could  be  no  better 
practical  demonstration  of  the  folly  of  seeking  new 
political  idols  among  anarchists  and  fanatics.  Our 
fathers  undoubtedly  were  filled  with  wisdom  and 

2?  I 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

they  clung  to  the  old  party,  even  though  imperfect. 
The  Republicans  saved  the  country  once,  and  it  was 
safe  to  trust  them  in  the  future.  Old  and  promi- 
nent citizens  shook  their  heads  in  approbation  and 
were  grateful  to  be  rescued  from  voting  for  a  mur- 
derer. There  was  but  a  day  more  before  election 
and  the  grossest  libels  of  Stryne  were  circulated  and 
published  in  the  afternoon.  Republicans  were 
thankful  that  there  was  no  time  for  their  stories  to 
be  contradicted.  Roma's  impulsive  exclamation  that 
the  weapons  were  juggled  with  was  telegraphed 
everywhere  as  a  fact.  Indignation  was  aroused  to  a 
terrible  pitch.  Had  Ruspoli  been  an  American, 
lynching  of  Stryne  would  have  been  suggested.  But 
even  San  Francisco's  most  loyal  Republicans  could 
not  arouse  themselves  to  that  punishment  for 
killing  a  useless  Italian  Prince. 

Theodosia,  unconscious  of  the  events  of  early 
morning,  had  arisen  and  penned  a  letter  to  Stryne. 
She  felt  that  she  could  never  say  no  to  that  will 
of  his  if  she  saw  him  in  person.  So  she  wrote, 
realizing  as  she  did  so  that  it  was  the  coward's 
method. 

She  unhesitatingly  admitted  to  herself  that  she 
was  ashamed  of  her  conduct.  Consequently  she 
wrote  with  great  decision.  Even  then  the  currents 

of  Stryne' s  stormy  will  swept  over  her,  making  her 

272 


THE  LOSER    WINS 


hesitate  and  soften  her  refusal.  Sometimes  she 
laughed  at  herself  as  a  ridiculous,  inexperienced 
matinee  girl,  enamored  of  Claude  Melnotte  or  Faust. 
Because  the  role  and  the  scene  in  which  he  ap- 
pealed to  her,  she  had  been  willing  to  give  herself 
to  the  actor  himself. 

Camelias  and  clematis  are  beautiful,  but  they  need 
the  warmth  of  the  tropics.  Society  was  as  necessary 
to  her  as  the  sun  to  those  flowers.  She  knew  she 
was  interesting,  charming,  and  handsome,  but  she 
needed  all  her  settings  of  jewels,  brocades,  tapestries, 
and  lace.  In  any  other  condition  she  would  be  a 
withered,  shriveled  blossom. 

Then  she  asked  herself  if  she  honestly  desired  to 
aid  the  poor,  the  working  classes,  as  she  had  so 
often  professed.  Theodosia  refused  to  admit  that 
she  was  affected.  Yes,  that  wish  was  earnest,  but 
she  preferred  being  a  socialist  in  a  brown-stone 
house,  and  having  the  smartest  turnouts  in  San 
Francisco.  To  dwell  among  the  unfortunate  and  un- 
clean, to  work  with  them  and  for  them  as  Stryne's 
wife,  would  be  noble,  but  she  was  not  fitted  for  it. 
Some  other  woman,  much  better  than  she,  could  do 
that,  for  Theodosia  Peyton,  by  temperament  and  en- 
vironment, was  a  dilettante. 

While  perusing  her  letter  for  the  last  time  before 

despatching   it,    Victoire  ran  to   her   mistress,    and 
18  273 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

flinging  a  newspaper  into  the  air,  exclaimed  in  almost 
incoherent  French  and  English : 

"  Mademoiselle,  Monsieur  le  Prince  est  killed  by 
ce  vilain  Stryne.  Mon  Dieu,  c  est  terrible,  Made- 
moiselle. So  nice,  Monsieur  le  Prince.  He  bowed 
so  when  Mademoiselle  go  away,  and  he  say  to  me 
'Mademoiselle/  comme  si  I  am  a  grande  dame.  I 
send  him,  Mademoiselle,  after  you,  for  he  loves  so 
great  deal.  Poor  Monsieur  le  Prince  !  " 

Theodosia  screamed,  "  Victoire,  what  are  you  say- 
ing?" and  leaped  after  the  newspaper.  It  was  all 
true.  Ruspoli  and  Stryne  were  enemies.  The 
journal  said  political  foes.  She  was  the  cause  of  it. 
There  was  a  quarrel  last  evening  at  the  sand-lot 
meeting.  It  was  her  fault.  Ruspoli  had  begged  to 
be  with  her.  Stryne  provoked  him  and  the  Prince 
issued  the  challenge.  Of  course,  and  hers  was  the 
blame.  Worse  still,  juggling  with  pistols  like  a 
trickster  and  assassin.  That  visit  of  Stryne's,  how 
clear  it  was  to  her  now  as  she  read.  When  he  ex- 
tracted the  promise  from  her,  he  was  deliberating 
the  Prince's  end.  It  was  her  duel  and  Ruspoli's 
death  was  hers. 

"  Oh,  Victoire,  I  am  a  murderess !  "  groaned  she, 
pressing  her  face  into  her  hands  as  she  fell  into  the 
French  woman's  arms.  In  her  dazed  condition  her 

mind   reviewed   Ruspoli's    love  for  her.     He,   with 

274 


THE  LOSER    WINS 


everything  to  lose  and  nothing  to  gain,  had  devoted 
himself  to  her  for  a  year.  Deliberately  she  tor- 
tured him  because  she  could.  Everything  that  a 
rejected  lover  can  suffer,  he  endured  patiently.  He 
asked  nothing  but  her  love  and  she  had  bestowed  it. 
To  think  he  would  never  know.  If  only  she  had  been 
a  woman  instead  of  a  coquette  and  told  him.  If  only 
she  had  risen  above  her  vanity.  She  was  conquered 
and  Ruspoli  was  assassinated — shot  by  her  small, 
white,  dimpled  hands.  She  dared  not  look  at  them, 
for  she  knew  her  tears  had  stained  them  with  blood. 

"  Mademoiselle,  they  say  Monsieur  le  Prince  is 
not  dead,  only  dying." 

"  Only  dying,"  groaned  Theodosia,  "  only  dying, 
Victoire?  Do  you  know  what  that  means?  " 

Then  she  arose  to  her  feet,  her  countenance  lighted 
by  hope. 

"  Perhaps,  Victoire."     Colonel  Peyton  came. 

"  Perhaps,  papa,"  repeated  she,  as  if  mad.  "  Per- 
haps. Oh  no.  Only  dying." 

During  the  entire  ten  miles  that  Colonel  Peyton's 
carriage  was  driven  with  horses  at  run-away  speed, 
Theodosia  lay  in  her  father's  arms  repeating  those 
words  like  a  refrain. 

"He  is  growing  weaker,"  said  Dr.  Knapp,  who 
had  known  Theodosia  from  childhood.  "  I  can  not 
let  you  see  him." 

275 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  That  is  the  very  reason  why  I  must.  You  shall 
not  keep  me  away  from  him,  Doctor.  I  am  going 
into  his  room." 

The  physician  bowed  to  the  inevitable  and  opened 
the  door  for  Colonel  Peyton  and  his  daughter.  Rus- 
poli  lay  on  the  pillows,  looking  as  if  already  dead 
and  in  his  shroud.  He  was  staring  vacantly  in  front 
of  him  when  his  eyes  lighted  on  Theodosia.  All 
that  morning  she  had  stood  there.  Was  it  she,  or 
merely  his  old  dream  of  her  ?  Colonel  Peyton  was 
with  her  and  it  was  she  in  the  flesh. 

Before  he  could  speak,  she  leaped  across  the  room 
and  knelt  by  his  low  bedside.  He  feebly  placed  his 
arms  about  her  shoulders  and  smiled  for  the  first 
time  since  wounded. 

"Joy  of  my  life,"  whispered  he  in  Italian,  raising 
her  hand  to  his  lips.  "  My  life  and  soul,  at  last 
thou  art  here." 

Since  Theodosia  had  heard  of  his  condition,  she 
had  not  wept,  but  shivered  and  moaned.  Her  face 
was  saddened  and  drawn,  but  her  eyes  were  dry  as 
she  flung  herself  at  his  feet.  When  she  saw  him 
and  heard  him  speak,  tears  fell  like  thorns  of  ice. 
Sobs  and  groans  prostrated  her  head  on  his  pillow. 
When  she  could  give  utterance,  she  knelt  enfolding 
his  face  in  her  hands,  and  whispered  in  his  own 

language : 

276 


THE  LOSER    WINS 


"  Listen,  Alessandro,  I  want  to  confess  to  thee. 
I  have  told  thee  a  falsehood  so  many  times.  Ales- 
sandro, I  love  thee." 

"  Ah,  Theodosia,  to  think  I  should  hear  it  only  on 
my  deathbed.  It  was  hard  to  know  I  was  going  to 
fall  this  morning,  but  Dioy  Dio!  Now  it  is  terrible. 
To  die  when  my  life  has  been  given  me,"  faintly 
articulated  he,  his  arms  holding  her  with  new  strength. 

Theodosia  pressed  her  mouth  to  his  bloodless 
cheeks  and  lips.  They  were  her  first  kisses.  He 
closed  his  eyes  and  opened  them  as  he  said,  "  My 
joy,  I  can  not  die  now." 

"  Alessandro,"  continued  she,  "  thou  wast  ever  so 
kind  and  I  so  cruel.  Thou  wast  ever  so  honest  and  I 
false.  How  many  times  have  I  looked  at  thee  and 
said,  fl  do  not  love  thee  '  when  my  heart  and  brain 
were  shrieking,  'I  love  thee,  I  adore  thee/  It  was 
a  contest  between  my  pride  and  thee.  A  few  times 
I  gave  way.  I  felt  I  could  not  love  thee  without 
dishonor.  I  was  always  thinking  of  myself.  I  am 
so  petty,  I  should  have  given  my  whole  heart  to  thee 
unreservedly,  and  relied  upon  thy  honor.  That  could 
never  fail  me." 

"  Never,  Theodosia,  clearest  lady."  For  the  first 
time  there  was  a  flush  in  his  cheeks  and  life  in  his  eyes. 

"  Alessandro,  I  adore  thee.  I  have  loved  thee  al- 
ways. Often  I  longed  to  hurl  myself  into  thy  arms 

277 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

and  cry,  'Take  me,  take  me.'  I  have  ever  belonged 
to  thee,  my  dear,  and  was  afraid  of  my  love  and  thine. 
Thou  canst  never  forgive  this  cruelty.  I  do  not 
ask  thee.  Live  and  make  me  surfer.  Bruise  me, 
beat  me,  torture  me,  for  what  I  have  done,  but  do 
not  die  unless  I  can  go  with  thee.  I  want  it  to  be  a 
scandal.  I  hope  the  newspapers  will  say  I  am  respon- 
sible for  it  all.  I  hope  I  shall  be  humiliated  and 
pointed  at  on  the  streets  as  the  murderess  of  my 
lover.  I  want  any  agony  or  affliction,  but  oh,  Dio,  I 
cannot  endure  thy  death  !  " 

"  Thou  lovest  me,  dear  heart.  Repeat  it,"  said 
he  in  great  pain. 

"I  adore  thee,  my  love,"  answered  she. 

"  And  wouldst  thou  ever  have  confessed  to  me, 
Theodosia?" 

"This  evening,  dear,  I  was  going  to  tell  thee.  If 
only  I  had  seen  thee  last  night." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  reproach  thee,  but  if  I  had  come 
to  thee  then,  how  much  more  of  life  we  might  have 
had.  Think,  soul  of  mine,  what  I  felt  this  morning, 
believing  I  must  die  unknowing  thy  love. " 

Dr.  Knapp  came,  saw  the  color  in  Ruspoli's 
cheeks,  felt  his  pulse,  and  said : 

"  Miss  Peyton,  you  must  come  away  now." 

The    Prince   touched    the   physician's   hand   and 

held  it  with  all  his  force.      "  Doctor,  you  will  let  me 

278 


THE  LOSER    WINS 


live.  I  want  to  live.  A  little  while  ago  it  did  not 
matter,  but  now  I  must  live." 

"  You  shall  have  the  best  attention,  Prince  Rus- 
poli,  but  you  ought  not  to  talk  more  at  present." 

"  May  Miss  Peyton  come  back  soon,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  rest." 

Dr.  Knapp  left  the  room,  and  Colonel  Peyton  and 
his  daughter  followed.  When  outside  the  door, 
Theodosia  confronted  the  physician  with  disheveled 
hair  and  wild  eyes.  She  placed  her  hands  on  the 
medical  man's  shoulders  and  said : 

"  You  must  give  me  your  honest  private  opinion. 
Is  Prince  Ruspoli  going  to  die  ?  "  The  physician 
did  not  answer. 

"  I  know  what  that  means,  Dr.  Knapp.  You  did 
not  reply  when  I  asked  you  that  question  about  my 
mother  once,  but  I  say  you  must  not  permit  him  to 
die.  I  hold  you  responsible  for  his  life. " 

"I  give  my  best  skill,  Miss  Peyton,  always,"  an- 
swered the  physician. 

"  If  he  dies,  it  will  be  your  fault.  You  must  find 
some  elixir  to  keep  him  for  me.  He  is  young  and 
strong.  There  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not  live. 
I  will  never  leave  him.  You  can  not  tear  me  from 
his  dead  body.  I  will  be  buried  alive  with  him." 

*'  Be  calm,  Miss  Peyton.     We  shall  do  all  that  is 

possible." 

279 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  It  is  the  same  old  story.  He  is  going  to  die. 
We  are  to  be  separated  before  our  happiness  has  be- 
gun. I  want  to  know  the  worst,  doctor.  Tell  me 
the  truth.  Am  I  correct  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are,  Miss  Peyton." 

"  Doctor,  I  knew  it.  You  can  not  keep  me  from 
him  another  minute.  I  shall  remain  with  him  as 
long  as  there  is  life. " 

Theodosia  burst  open  the  door  and  flew  back  to 
the  bedside  of  the  sick  man.  She  had  cast  aside  her 
wraps  and  wore  the  loose,  flowing,  soft,  cream  satin 
morning  gown  in  which  she  was  dressed  when  she 
heard  of  the  duel.  Her  long  yellow  curls,  unre- 
strained by  an  ornament  or  a  pin,  hung  about  her 
shoulders  and  almost  smothered  him  as  she  fell  on 
her  knees  by  his  bedside  and  held  his  head  in  her 
arms. 

The  Prince  lay  back  on  the  pillow  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  what  the  physician  told  thee. 
I  shall  never  go  back  to  Italy  alive." 

"  No,  no,  Alessandro,  it  is  not  true.  Thou  shalt 
live.  Thou  must  live,  or  we  will  die  together. "  His 
mind  was  clearer  and  better  poised  than  hers,  even  in 
his  pain.  Ruspoli  closed  his  eyes  to  restrain  him- 
self from  shrieking  in  agony.  Then  he  continued  in 
a  whisper  that  none  but  she  could  understand : 

"  Dearest  life,  I  knew  before  the  duel  occurred  I 
280 


THE  LOSER    WINS 


should  never  return  to  Italy.  Yesterday  when  we 
rode  in  the  park,  I  had  just  received  the  news  for 
which  I  wrote  and  cabled  prayers  to  my  mother,  the 
Cardinal,  my  father's  cousin,  and  Humbert.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  God  is  love  when  the  intelligence 
came  that  the  King  willed  that  I  come  and  beg  thee 
to  be  my  wife.  What  caprice,  what  inspiration, 
moved  my  family  to  consent,  I  know  not.  I  had  the 
despatches  in  my  pocket  when  I  fell,  but  I  gave 
them  to  Roma  together  with  my  testament  for  thee. 
Had  the  answer  of  my  mother  been  a  refusal,  I 
should  have  abandoned  my  family  and  country  and 
lived  in  the  United  States.  Then,  altho  I  possess 
little,  I  should  have  begged  that  thou  accept  me.  I 
was  afraid  thou  didst  not  love  me  enough  for  that. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Alessandro,  but  I  could  not  ask  thee 
to  make  a  sacrifice  and  repent." 

"  My  only  reason  for  clinging  to  my  rank  was  that 
I  have  so  little  to  offer  at  best.  If  there  is  any 
pleasure  for  thee  in  being  the  Princess  Ruspoli,  I  de- 
sire thee  to  have  it.  I  know  I  shall  never  return  to 
my  country,  dearest  lady,  bur  wilt  thou  not  go  for 
me?  I  should  be  so  much  happier  if,  before  I  die, 
I  know  thou  art  all  mine,  that  thou  earnest  unasked 
and  gavest  thyself  to  me.  Wilt  thou  be  my  bride 
and  carry  our  message  of  love  and  gratitude  to  my 

people?" 

281 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  Alessandro,"  sobbed  she,  her  face  buried  on  his 
throat. 

"  Thou  dost  not  respond,  my  life.  It  is  not  too 
late.  There  is  a  priest  not  far  from  here.  I  saw 
the  little  church  as  we  passed.  Roma  has  sent  for 
him  for  the  last  absolution.  First  let  him  make  thee 
my  bride." 

"I  am  thine  now,  Alessandro,"  whispered  she. 

"  I  know,  but  wilt  thou  be,  Theodosia,  the  Princess 
Ruspoli?" 

They  were  in  close  embrace  when  the  physician 
said: 

"The  priest  is  here." 


282 


Chapter  XXV 
A  VIOLET  BRIDAL 


promised  to  return  within  fif- 
teen minutes,  and  left  Ruspoli  alone  with 
the  father.  She  went  into  another  room 
and  bathed  her  face  in  hot  water  and  cologne.  Then 
she  combed  her  hair  in  the  full  pompadour  worn  at 
that  period,  and  dressed  her  curls,  fastening  two  to- 
gether in  the  back  with  a  clasp.  She  straightened 
out  the  folds  of  her  tucked  white  satin  morning 
gown,  and  was  impatient  to  go  back  to  the  Prince. 

When  Colonel  Peyton  and  she  reentered,  the  room 
bore  the  appearance  of  having  been  prepared  for  her 
coming.  Ruspoli  had  not  looked  so  well  since  she 
first  came  as  he  did  at  that  moment.  His  eyes  were 
unnaturally  bright  and  the  blood  was  concentrated  in 
his  cheeks. 

The  priest,  a  small,  bent,  sad-faced,  dark-eyed 
man,  whose  closely  cropped  hair  was  sprinkled  with 
gray,  arose  and  allowed  Theodosia  to  pass  to  Ruspoli. 

"  How  strange,  Theodosia,  dearest  life,  that  this  is 
my  wedding  day  and  then  I  die." 

283 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  We  are  to  be  married  to-day,  Alessandro  ?  "  asked 
she. 

"With  thy  permission,  my  joy." 

l<  I  will  not  leave  thee,  dear,  but  I  must  send  for  a 
gown.  I  shall  be  ready  in  three  hours. " 

He  shook  his  head  as  he  looked  into  her  eyes  and 
whispered,  "That  will  be  too  late.  Now." 

"A3  I  am?" 

"  Yes,  as  thou  art,  dearest." 

"  In  this  boudoir  frock?  " 

"  What  does  its  name  matter?  It  is  beautiful  and 
so  art  thou.  One  can  not  stand  upon  ceremony  when 
one's  life  is  counted  by  minutes." 

"  I  am  such  a  funny  bride." 

"  Thou  art  mine. " 

"  There  are  to  be  no  guests,  Alessandro  ?  " 

"  Enough,  my  love.  Thy  father,  Roma,  Dalgarkoff, 
and  Death. " 

"  Not  the  last,  Alessandro,"  said  she,  kissing  his 
eyes.  "  You  are  going  to  live.  Every  minute  you 
are  growing  stronger.  Oh,  to  think  that  after  all 
you  will  recover.  What  bliss !  Our  entire  lives  to 
be  together.  Let  it  be  soon.  Father,  we  are  ready," 
said  she,  quickly  turning  to  the  priest,  who  stood  at 
the  open  window  talking  with  Colonel  Peyton. 

The  rancher's  kindly  wife  brought  roses  from  the 

garden  for  decorating  the  large,  airy,  barren  sleeping- 

284 


A    VIOLET  BRIDAL 


room,  but  the  priest  waved  her  away.  It  was  a  union 
between  a  Protestant  and  a  Catholic  upon  which  the 
Church  frowned.  Her  disapproval  is  so  strong  that 
no  like  marriage  may  be  celebrated  within  her  sacred 
walls.  Not  a  flower  or  blossom  shall  be  employed  to 
make  one  forget  that  the  Church  is  wrathful. 

The  thoughtful  hostess  ordered  the  bed  turned  so 
that  the  man  and  woman  about  to  be  married  might 
look  out  upon  the  lawn.  Before  them  was  a  large 
garden  surrounded  with  shrubbery  and  trees.  At 
midday  the  weather  was  warm  and  the  windows  were 
thrown  wide  open.  After  a  few  seconds,  Ruspoli 
took  a  deep  breath  and  looked  up  toward  Theodosia. 

"  Is  there  perfume  in  the  air,  dear?  What  is  it?  " 
asked  he  faintly. 

"Violets,  Alessandro,"  exclaimed  she. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  rancher's  wife.  "  There  is  a  great 
bed  of  them  below  your  window.  Would  you  like 
some?  "  asked  she,  looking  at  the  priest. 

"Yes,"  answered  Ruspoli.  "Please  bring  this 
lady  some  for  her  hair  and  gown." 

It  was  only  a  handclasp,  but  Theodosia  and  the 
Prince  understood.  She  wore  the  violets  in  her  curls 
and  on  her  shoulder.  Then  when  she  approached 
him,  he  touched  his  lips  to  the  flowers  and  they  both 
smiled. 

All  the  witnesses  came.     They  were  prepared  for 

285 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

the  ceremony.  Theodosia  sat  in  a  chair  by  the  bed- 
side and  listened*  to  the  short  form  of  marriage. 
Again  the  Church  showed  displeasure  and  nearly  all 
that  is  beautiful  in  the  service  was  shorn  from  the 
text.  Only  the  necessary  questions  were  asked  and 
answered.  Then  the  priest,  in  a  voice  conveying 
deeply  pained  disapproval  of  similar  violations  of 
custom  and  tradition,  gave  a  short  exhortation  to  the 
couple.  They  were  husband  and  wife. 

All  knelt  while  the  father  bestowed  the  blessing 
of  the  Church  upon  the  Prince  and  Princess  Ruspoli. 
When  he  finished,  Theodosia  was  still  prostrate  in 
prayer  and  her  husband's  eyes  were  closed.  There 
was  no  organ  to  swell  out  joy  and  hope.  Only  the 
sobs  of  the  bride  sounded  mournfully  through  the 
chamber. 


286 


Chapter  XXVI 
THE  PASSING  OF   STRYNE 


the  entire  day  before  elec- 
tions, bulletins  of  Prince  Ruspoli's  health 
were  eagerly  sought.  While  the  Republi- 
cans did  not  hope  for  his  death,  they  could  not  but 
realize  that  their  chances  of  success  were  immeasura- 
bly strengthened  by  his  decline.  From  the  windows 
of  the  journal  of  the  Working  Men,  the  crowd  read 
that  the  Italian  had  suffered  only  a  slight  wound. 
All  the  Republican  newspapers  announced  as  a  vic- 
tory for  them  that  Ruspoli  was  sinking  each  hour. 
Between  the  rival  dailies  the  people  were  in  a 
lamentable  state  of  confusion. 

Meanwhile  Stryne's  friends  and  enemies  were 
seeking  him  with  equal  fervor.  The  opposition  was 
anxious  that  he  be  within  reach  of  the  law  in  the 
event  of  the  Prince's  death.  They  looked  forward  to 
seing  the  leader  of  the  Working  Men  arrested  for 
murder. 

His  own  chief  supporters  and  friends  were  still 
loyal,  but  they  feared  lest  the  duel  cause  the  defeat 

of  the  party.     They  sought  him  in  every  possible 

287 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

place,  for  they  believed  that  if  the  assembled  voters 
of  San  Francisco  coulcl  only  hear  his  speech  and  feel 
his  earnestness,  his  honesty,  and  his  intensity,  they 
would  not  swerve.  His  should  be  the  call  of  the 
general  rallying  a  scattered  army. 

After  all,  what  had  Stryne  done?  Merely  ac- 
cepted the  challenge  of  a  foreigner,  an  Italian  prince, 
to  a  duel,  and  wounded  or  killed  his  opponent.  What 
else  was  there  for  a  good  shot,  a  man  of  honor? 
Suppose  Ruspoli  should  die,  it  was  merely  a  misfor- 
tune of  war.  The  earth  would  be  rid  of  one  more 
parasite. 

In  spite  of  their  arguments  they  realized  the 
damage  it  did  their  cause,  and  abandoned  hope  of 
success  in  the  State.  However,  they  believed  that, 
should  he  return  by  eight  o'clock  at  night,  one  speech 
on  the  sand-lot  would  elect  the  mayor  and  a  part  of 
the  legislature.  It  did  not  hurt  their  confidence  in 
him  that  he  disappeared,  but  they  did  not  like  to  have 
the  words  "fugitive  "  and  "  coward  "  flung  at  them. 
If  only  Stryne  would  come. 

Each  constituted  himself  a  detective,  and  men 
ceased  work  to  seek  him.  Ten  thousand  dollars 
reward  was  offered  to  any  one  who  would  give  in- 
formation of  his  whereabouts  before  eight  o'clock. 
Telegrams  were  sent  in  all  directions  for  his  appre- 
hension. Attics,  cellars,  and  alleys  were  ransacked 

288 


THE  PASSING   OF  STRYNE 


and  he  was  still  missing.  Only  the  ship  sailing  for 
New  York  at  three  o'clock  was  overlooked. 

Stryne's  friends  tramped  the  streets  until  the 
morning  hour,  waiting  for  some  news  of  their  cham- 
pion. They  were  even  humiliated  by  being  com- 
pelled to  deny  the  rumor  that  he  had  committed 
suicide.  None  who  knew,  had  met,  or  even  seen 
him,  considered  it  other  than  absurd.  Strynites  were 
dazed  and  vaguely  wondered  who  would  lead  them, 
express  their  grievances,  and  declare  their  rights. 
Who  would  voice  Strynism?  Men  who  had  been 
cemented  together  by  the  leader's  will  and  labor, 
looked  at  one  another  as  strangers. 

Like  a  haze  at  first,  and  then  definitely,  it  crystal- 
lized in  their  brains  that  each  one  unassisted  must 
work  out  his  own  sufferings.  At  this  they  rebelled, 
for  they  recalled  their  power  and  might  of  yesterday 
when  each  felt  himself  ruler.  Gradually  they  real- 
ized that  they  had  been  working  with  strength  bor- 
rowed from  their  leader.  They  were  as  helpless  as 
atoms.  They  would  continue  to  grumble  their  wrongs 
to  themselves.  They  would  submit  to  the  domina- 
tion of  the  old  bosses  and  corporations.  Strynism 
was  extinct  because  Stryne  was  no  longer  present. 

During  the  day  the  news  from  the  bedside  of  Rus- 
poli  stated  that  after  a  decided  improvement,  the 

fever  suddenly  grew  higher.     The  physicians  were 
19  289 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

quite  helpless,  as  it  was  certain  that  blood  poison  had 
resulted. 

The  vote  was  unusually  large  owing  to  the  intense 
interest  taken  in  the  elections  throughout  the  entire 
State.  Results  showed  that  Van  Ness,  the  nomi- 
nee for  Governor,  carried  the  city  of  San  Francisco 
by  a  good  majority,  but  in  the  country  he  was 
defeated.  Stryne  was  a  new  god  for  the  conserva- 
tive interior,  where  the  voters  were  shocked  to 
learn  that  they  barely  escaped  electing  the  ticket 
of  a  murderer. 

In  San  Francisco,  the  fortress  of  the  fugitive  leader, 
the  candidates  of  the  Working  Men's  party  for  the 
mayoralty,  judgeships,  and  the  legislature  without 
exception  were  elected.  They  filled  their  offices 
quite  as  men  under  the  old  bosses  had  done.  Many 
of  the  radicals  became  conservative  and  corrupt. 
This  seemed  to  them  atonement  for  Strynism,  which 
they  hoped  would  be  set  down  as  youthful  indiscre- 
tion. 

The  voters  of  the  city  had  confided  in  Stryne  dur- 
ing too  long  a  period  to  alter  their  reliance  for  any 
reason.  When  his  seconds  reported  Stryne 's  exag- 
gerated view  of  the  harm  he  had  done  himself  in  the 
unfortunate  duel,  they  grieved  over  his  delusion. 
It  was  not  their  part  to  desert  him,  even  tho  he  had 

forsaken   them   at   their  most  critical  hour.     They 

290 


THE  PASSING  OF  STRYNE 


looked  every  day  for  his  return  in  triumph.  And  in 
years  to  come  the  working  men  of  San  Francisco  ex- 
pected Stryne's  reappearance  with  superstitious  faith 
akin  to  that  with  which  the  ancient  English  awaited 
the  coming  again  of  King  Arthur. 


291 


Chapter  XXVII 
STRUGGLING  BACK  TO  LIFE 

[ITHIN  Theodosia's  nature  was  the  secret  of 
making  others  content  with  themselves. 
To  cause  a  friend  to  feel  that  the  particu- 
lar gown  she  was  wearing  suited  her  style,  gave  her 
pleasure.  Another  acquaintance  was  cheered  by  a 
wish  from  Theodosia  to  write  verses  on  the  coming 
and  the  going  of  the  color  in  her  cheeks.  She  routed 
despondency.  In  consequence  she  was  much  liked 
wherever  she  went. 

One  of  her  delights  lay  in  bestowing  kindness. 
She  enjoyed  thoroughly  the  incense  ever  arising  to 
the  nostrils  of  Lady  Bountiful.  At  two  and  twenty 
she  supposed  that  she  had  no  enemies.  After  she 
became  the  Princess  Ruspoli  she  was  surprised  to 
learn,  even  in  her  husband's  sick-room,  that  she  was 
the  most  unpopular  woman  in  San  Francisco. 

During  the  twelve  months  that  she  played  fast  and 
loose  with  Stryne  and  Ruspoli  she  had  provoked 
gossip.  Every  one  was  as  kind  as  ever.  She  had 
done  nothing  as  yet  to  occasion  snubs.  The  Pey- 

tons  were  too  powerful  for  that ;  but  her  acquaint- 

292 


STRUGGLING  BACK   TO  LIFE 

ances  were  awaiting  their  time,  and,  as  soon  as  some 
one  found  the  courage  and  occasion,  were  prepared  to 
administer  the  deserved  rebuke. 

In  the  boudoirs  of  society  it  had  been  talked  over 
thoroughly  from  all  points  of  view.  The  Almanack 
de  Gotha  was  called  into  service,  and  the  lineage  of 
Ruspoli  was  read  until  it  could  be  recited.  It  was 
out  of  the  question  that  he  marry  Theodosia  Peyton, 
for  he  was  an  Italian  and  of  the  blood  royal.  Those 
men  never  marry  out  of  their  class,  said  they.  Con- 
sequently, even  her  best  friend  felt  no  small  degree 
of  pleasure  in  seeing  Theodosia  become  more  deeply 
entangled  in  the  flirtation.  It  is  a  profound  affec- 
tion which  honestly  regrets  the  misfortunes  of 
others. 

When  Theodosia  suddenly  became  the  wife  of 
Ruspoli,  every  one  realized  that  she  was  "deep" 
and  "  designing."  Jessie  Traver  said :  "  I  never  saw 
a  person  yet,  with  big  blue  eyes,  who  could  not  tell 
a  lie  a  second.  Heaven  deliver  me  from  ingenues." 

It  was  regarded  as  a  breach  of  friendship  that 
Theodosia  had  always  had  the  audacity  to  pretend 
that  Ruspoli  was  tiresome  and  a  bore.  Such  double- 
dealing,  and  what  a  two-faced  minx!  Then  her 
acquaintances  consoled  themselves  by  saying  that  the 
Prince's  mother  would  never  receive  her.  That  was 
some  pleasure  after  all.  However,  sad  to  relate, 

293 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

Theodosia  had  despatches  of  welcome  from  the  Dowa- 
ger Princess  Ruspoli. 

What  of  that  ?  The  Italian  was  a  beggar,  abso- 
lutely without  a  cent.  Not  quite,  either,  for  he  had 
an  allowance  of  something  like  ten  thousand  a  year, 
and  Colonel  Peyton  was  to  double  or  treble  it,  if 
necessary. 

At  least  Ruspoli  was  going  to  die.  That  much 
seemed  certain.  Then  Theodosia  would  be  worse 
off  than  ever,  with  no  recompense  for  all  the  unpleas- 
ant newspaper  scandal  and  gossip.  It  is  so  horrible 
for  a  woman  to  be  concerned  in  a  duel.  So  the 
fashionable  world  at  last  found  solace.  Society  could 
afford  barely  to  do  its  duty  and  pity  the  poor  Princess 
Ruspoli. 

Only  Adele  Whiting,  wiser  by  far  than  women 
years  older  than  she,  was  sufficiently  sagacious  to 
consider  that  possibly  Ruspoli  might  live.  If  he  did, 
she  saw  no  reason  why  she  should  not  be  the  dearest 
friend  of  the  Princess  Ruspoli  as  well  as  of  Theodosia 
Peyton.  Court  life  is  agreeable.  She  had  heard  of 
the  Prince's  brothers,  cousins,  and  friends,  and  no 
woman  is  ever  quite  without  hope. 

So  each  day  found  Adele  at  the  rancher*  s  house, 
where  Ruspoli  lay,  the  flame  of  his  life  giving  its  last 
flicker.  Miss  Whiting  purchased  bouquets  of  roses 

that  she  really  paid  for  with  money  which   should 

294 


STRUGGLING  BACK   TO  LIFE 

have  gone  for  an  evening  wrap.  The  flowers  were 
fresh  daily,  and  she  begged  Theodosia  to  allow  her 
to  do  something  for  her  husband. 

"  You  look  positively  insane,  my  girl.  You  might 
at  least  let  me  comb  your  hair.  The  Prince  is  de- 
lirious now,  but  when  he  recovers  he  will  want  to  see 
you  pretty." 

Theodosia  had  not  slept  for  days  and  nights. 
The  color  left  her  cheeks.  Her  hands  were  as  white 
as  her  husband's  brow.  Her  hair  was  in  one  great 
curl  hanging  down  her  back.  She  still  wore  her 
wedding  gown. 

"  I  don't  care  how  I  look,  Adele,"  said  she,  rest- 
ing her  tired  head  heavily  on  her  friend's  shoulder. 

"  To  think,  Theo  dear,  I  should  live  to  hear  you 
say  that ! " 

The  lips  of  the  Princess  quivered  as  she  spoke. 
"Adele,  you  must  never  flirt.  If  a  man  is  worth 
anything  at  all  and  deserves  your  love  you  should  be 
honest  with  him  or  leave  him  alone." 

"Theo,  I  said  you  looked  mad,  and  now  I  know 
you  are.  If  your  husband  were  not  ill  I  should  smile 
at  your  preaching  to  me  against  flirtation.  Why, 
I  never  could  find  any  one  to  flirt  with  because 
you  always  took  the  men  for  yourself.  I  am  glad 
you  are  married.  I  hope  that  now  I  shall  fare 
better." 

295 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

"  I  have  been  so  wicked,  Adele,"  sobbed  Theo- 
dosia.  "  Ever  since  this  fever  came  on  Alessandro, 
I  prayed  hours  that  I  might  die.  You  don't  know 
the  despair  which  makes  you  want  to  sink  dead 
to  the  floor.  I  never  was  so  unhappy  in  my  life 
before." 

"  Theodosia,  I  am  going  to  Colonel  Peyton  and 
compel  him  to  take  you  away  from  here  by  force,  if 
necessary.  You  must  not  do  this  any  longer.  Nurses 
are  created  especially  to  care  for  the  sick,  and  the 
Prince  must  have  a  nurse." 

"  He  shall  not,  Adele.  No  one  shall  do  a  thing 
for  him  but  myself.  You  don't  know  what  it  is 
to  see  him  not  recognize  me.  Fancy,  Adele,  he 
looks  at  me  with  his  great  black  eyes  and  has 
not  the  faintest  idea  who  I  am.  It  is  almost  as 
bad  as  if  he  did  not  love  me,  and  I  brought  it  on 
myself." 

"  I  don't  understand  what  Dr.  Knapp  means  by 
allowing  you  to  get  into  this  condition.  Besides, 
you  know  nothing  of  the  work  of  a  nurse  and  you  are 
liable  to  do  more  harm  than  good.  Do  be  your  sen- 
sible self,  Theo,  and  let  me  get  some  one  to  help  you. 
Once  you  were  a  dear  girl  with  such  heaps  of  com- 
mon sense." 

"  I  can  not  expect  any  one  but  myself  to  under- 
stand," sobbed  Theodosia. 

296 


STRUGGLING  BACK  TO  LIFE 

Dr.  Knapp  came  and  Adele  asked,  "Doesn't  the 
Prince  need  a  nurse?  " 

"Very  badly." 

"  Then  why  do  you  allow  Theodosia  to  wear  her- 
self out  and  kill  her  husband  by  taking  care  of  him  ?  " 

The  medical  man  could  not  say,  but  the  real  secret 
of  his  great  success  in  the  fashionable  world  was 
that  he  allowed  his  patients  to  follow  any  caprice  not 
obviously  suicidal.  Even  so,  he  made  no  more  errors 
than  his  contemporaries,  and  he  was  the  most  popu- 
lar doctor  in  town.  Theodosia  had  insisted  that  no 
one  aid  her  in  nursing  her  husband,  and  Dr.  Knapp 
yielded. 

A  result  of  the  interview  between  Adele  Whiting 
and  the  physician  was  that  a  nurse  went  immediately 
to  Theodosia's  relief.  Then  Adele  returned  to  her 
study  of  Italian  social  life.  She  looked  carefully 
through  the  Almanack  de  Gotha  to  learn  how  many 
of  the  Prince's  cousins  were  unmarried. 

Miss  Nash,  the  nurse,  had  a  gentle  voice,  a  soft 
touch,  and  velvet  footsteps.  She  soothed  Theodosia 
with  her  sympathy.  Then,  talking  to  her  as  if  she 
were  a  baby,  she  brushed  out  her  hair  strand  by 
strand.  Finally,  she  became  almost  drowsy.  She 
lay  on  a  cot  by  the  side  of  her  husband's  bed. 
When  he  started  up  with  a  terrible  hallucination  in 

his  delirium,  she  leaped  to  his  side  and  cooled  his 

297 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRIXCE 

wrists  and  brow.  The  nurse  could  not  persuade  her 
to  lie  down. 

Then  she  sat  in  a  chair  by  the  bed  and  saw  the 
struggle  he  was  making  with  death.  He  beat  the 
pillows  with  his  hands  and  groaned.  His  cheeks 
were  ablaze  with  fever.  Theodosia  bent  over  him 
and  pleaded,  "  Alessandro,  dost  thou  not  know  me  ? 
Only  look  at  me,  dear.  It  is  I,  Theodosia." 

The  sick  man  chattered  on  in  his  own  tongue, 
unheeding  his  wife.  Presently  he  leaped  from  his 
bed  toward  the  windows  in  search  of  cooler  air. 
Had  not  Miss  Nash  and  the  Princess  restrained  him 
he  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  below.  Again 
he  was  placed  in  bed.  Then  the  nurse  obtained  his 
temperature,  and  she  looked  at  her  thermometer  with 
affright. 

"What  do  you  see?"  asked  Theodosia,  terror 
stricken,  as  Miss  Nash  went  for  the  physician.  "  Is 
it  death  ? " 

"No.     Only  a  crisis/'  answered  the  nurse  hastily. 

Before  Theodosia  could  observe  what  the  Prince 
was  doing,  he  took  a  large  bucket  of  ice  water  stand- 
ing on  the  table  near  by,  and  held  his  head  therein. 
Then  he  covered  his  body  with  the  cold  liquid.  She 
fled  in  alarm  for  the  physician  and  nurse.  When 
they  returned,  he  held  out  his  arm  to  her  with  a 

smile  and  said,  "Theodosia."     It  was  his  first  con- 

298 


STRUGGLING  BACK  TO  LIFE 

scious  moment  in  three  days.  His  fever  was  broken. 
Hope  dawned  on  the  doctor's  countenance.  The 
nurse  placed  her  hands  on  Theodosia's  head  and  said, 
"  Your  husband  will  live." 

The  Princess  Ruspoli  laughed,  cried,  embraced 
every  one,  and  fell  by  her  husband's  side  in  a  fit  of 
laughter  and  shivers  which  resembled  hysteria. 
Then  she  yawned  spasmodically  until  she  almost 
strangled.  Presently  the  nurse  gave  her  some  medi- 
cine that  caused  sleep. 

At  noon  the  next  day  she  awoke,  her  husband  and 
nurse  watching  her.  It  seemed  that  in  one  night 
she  had  grown  years  younger.  The  Prince  was  weak 
and  very  pallid  after  the  fever  and  enormous  loss  of 
blood,  but  recovery  was  not  far  away. 

"Thou  art  going  to  be  well,  Alessandro,"  cried 
Theodosia,  leaping~from  her  couch.  "  I  am  so  glad, 
and  together  we  shall  live  happily  to  the  end  of  our 
days,  just  like  a  fairy  story.  Isn't  it  glorious  ?  The 
morning  is  beautiful.  Miss  Nash  is  so  good.  Dr. 
Knapp  is  so  kind.  Papa  is  so  dear.  Oh,  life,  what 
a  blessing ! " 


299 


Chapter  XXVIII 
THE  LAST  MEETING 

IRLOOKING  the  silent,  weary,  yellow 
Tiber  flowing  through  Rome  is  a  huge, 
stern,  square  palazzo  which  has  rows  of 
long  windows,  sculptured  with  wonderful  art.  Its 
giant  porticos,  vast  courts,  endless  corridors,  immense 
galleries  and  halls  all  betoken  sovereign  pomp.  In 
one  gallery  are  the  marvelous  frescoes  of  Annibale 
Caracci.  These  vast  rooms  have  exquisitely  carved 
ceilings  six  and  twenty  feet  high.  The  walls  are 
bare,  and  the  blending  of  all  that  is  best  in  modern 
and  antique  furniture  is  in  the  mansion.  Once  it 
was  occupied  by  Pope  Pius  III.,  an  ancestor  of  the 
family.  It  is  the  Palazzo  Ruspoli,  and  one  of  the 
few  in  Rome  inhabited  only  by  the  descendants  of 
their  forefathers.  Nearly  all  the  others  are  let  to 
parvenus,  merchants,  or  foreigners. 

Four  years  after  the  marriage  of  Theodosia  and 
Prince  Alessandro  Ruspoli,  this  was  their  home. 
His  mother  said  of  her  daughter-in-law,  "  The  sun 
shining  from  Theodosia's  hair  of  gold  has  lighted 

and  cheered  our  Palazzo." 

300 


THE  LAST  MEETING 


In  truth,  since  her  coming  the  penetrating  chill  of 
the  walls  had  disappeared.  Light  and  warmth  dis- 
persed the  gloom  of  closed  windows,  which  made  the 
palace  resemble  a  tomb  or  prison.  Her  happy,  joy- 
ous nature  pervaded  each  dim,  musty  corner.  She 
opened  rooms  that  her  husband's  generation  scarce 
knew  existed,  and  gave  them  the  air  of  being  occu- 
pied. Her  presence  modernized  Palazzo  Ruspoli 
without  altering  it.  With  new  blood  and  new  life 
the  new  world  revived  the  ancient. 

The  return  of  Prince  Alessandro  from  the  United 
States  with  his  bride  marked  an  historical  event  in 
his  family.  His  mother  was  of  the  Savoys,  and  the 
Ruspolis  had  ever  retained  their  blood  unpolluted  by 
foreigners. 

Theodosia's  arrival  caused  the  greatest  excitement 
that  had  come  to  the  family  in  a  century.  She  was 
not  even  Spanish,  nor  French,  nor  German,  nor  Eng- 
lish, but  an  American.  To  fancy  that  a  Ruspoli 
could  marry  an  American,  to  fancy  that  Alessandro 
could  become  an  iconoclast ! 

Prince  Alessandro's  mother  awaited  the  coming 
of  her  daughter  -  in  -  law  with  sickening  heart. 
Surely  this  bride  was  an  ambitious  American  who 
had  married  her  son  for  his  title  and  rank.  Un- 
doubtedly this  pushing,  ambitious  young  woman 
would  take  from  her  all  her  rights  but  those  of  a 

3°  i 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRINCE 

dowager.  She  felt  it  hard  to  be  second  in  the 
Palazzo  Ruspoli.  She  was  a  tall,  erect,  queenly 
woman  with  a  thin  face,  aquiline  nose,  square,  well- 
set  chin  and  dark  eyes,  brilliant  like  black  diamonds, 
that  still  preserved  youth's  fire  and  beauty.  Hon- 
esty, loyalty,  justice  were  in  the  lips,  the  brow,  the 
poise  of  the  head.  Not  the  Queen  herself  was  so 
securely  enthroned  as  she  in  the  hearts  of  those 
dwelling  in  Palazzo  Ruspoli.  Now,  thought  she, 
this  power  must  be  given  to  a  foreigner,  the  wife  of 
her  eldest  son. 

Cousins  of  both  sexes,  aunts,  uncles,  the  rulers 
themselves,  Humbert  and  his  gracious,  beautiful 
young  consort,  were  rilled  with  interest  in  their  new 
kinswoman.  She  was  the  latest  royal  toy  imported 
from  America. 

Since  it  was  not  in  Theodosia's  nature  to  be 
affected  or  anything  but  her  cheerful,  merry,  natural 
self,  the  Ruspolis  and  the  Savoys  were  charmed  by 
la  bella  Americana. 

Theodosia,  with  her  ready  sympathy  and  tact, 
speedily  comprehended  the  fears  and  doubts  of  her 
mother-in-law.  Instead  of  taking  from  that  royal 
lady's  power,  she  augmented  it  by  giving  her  one 
more  subject,  for  she  charmingly  submitted  to  be 
nothing  but  the  daughter  of  the  Palazzo  Ruspoli. 

When  the  older  Princess  saw  this,  her  fears  for 
302 


THE  LAST  MEETING 


her  own  sovereignty  abated,  and  her  love  for  Theo- 
dosia  daily  grew.  Often  she  thought  one  of  her  own 
brown  race  might  not  have  been  so  tractable  as  this 
daughter  of  California  with  the  glint  of  the  gold  of 
her  State  in  her  wonderful  tresses. 

When  the  young  nobles  of  the  court  saw  Theo- 
dosia,  they  approached  and  begged  the  honor  of  a 
presentation.  These  men  felt  that  she  was  much 
too  beautiful  to  be  in  love  with  her  husband  and  they 
already  saw  in  her  a  new  beauty  for  their  conquest. 

Young  Prince  Luigi  Colonna,  who  thought  he  un- 
derstood his  world  of  women,  was  one  of  these. 
When  he  offered  his  most  elaborate  compliments  to 
Theodosia,  she  looked  at  him  with  the  amazement  of 
a  young  boy.  There  was  not  a  smile  in  her  eye  nor 
a  poise  to  her  head  to  show  that  she  realized  they 
were  of  different  sexes.  It  was  disconcerting  to  this 
hero  of  romances.  Indeed  Theodosia,  from  the  be- 
ginning of  her  life  in  Rome,  bore  herself  with  that 
dignity  and  freedom  from  coquetry  that  only  satiety 
furnishes,  and  which  a  reformed  American  flirt  alone 
can  assume. 

Their  first  child  was  a  little  maiden  named  Theo- 
dosia, with  hair  of  flax  and  the  brilliant  eyes  of  the 
Ruspolis,  composed  of  the  blue-white  iris  and  large 
black  pupils.  Her  brow  was  from  the  other  Theo- 
dosia,  and  she  had  the  full,  decisive  lips  of  the  Prince. 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

She  was  a  perfect  blending  of  California  and  Italy. 
She  and  her  sturdy,  fair  brother,  Alessandro,  wound 
their  fragile  arms  about  their  parents'  necks  like 
tendrils  and  made  the  Prince  and  Princess  more  than 
lovers.  Their  affection  had  blossomed  and  they  were 
husband  and  wife. 

Sometimes  when  these  four  were  together,  Theo- 
dosia  said  to  the  Prince,  her  eyes  moist  with  tears : 
"Alessandro,  I  am  afraid  to  be  so  happy.  I  don't 
deserve  it.  I  know  something  terrible  is  going  to 
happen.  It  is  not  possible  to  have  so  much  joy 
without  paying  for  it  in  some  way." 

"Dearest  lady,"  said  he,  kissing  her  hand  as  be- 
fore they  were  married,  "  we  paid  for  it  long  ago  in 
California,  non  e  vtro" 

"  Sty  amore  mio,  so  we  did.  I  am  so  happy  I  al- 
most forget  those  dreadful  days." 

It  was  at  this  period  that  the  sluggish,  sleeping, 
Roman  population  was  aroused  into  a  state  of  activity. 
They  ceased  lounging  on  the  grass  where  they  were 
awaiting  work  and  food.  Life  may  sometimes  arise 
from  the  dead.  They  lived  in  the  sun,  but  they 
proclaimed  that  its  rays  could  not  give  them  bread. 
The  King  spent  millions  a  year  while  Lazarus's  sons 
inhabited  the  land. 

These  idlers  sprang  to  their  feet  and  shook  the 

palaces  of  the  old  nobles  with  their  cry  for  work  and 

3°4 


THE  LAST  MEETING 


food.  Humbert  was  a  kindly  man,  but  quite  helpless 
when  confronted  with  these  demands  of  his  people. 
It  grieved  him  to  refuse  his  subjects  labor  and  sus- 
tenance. But  where  were  they  to  be  had?  What 
did  it  matter  to  them  if  he  had  several  millions  a 
year  ?  Even  if  he  gave  his  revenue  to  the  poor,  it 
would  make  only  a  few  less  mendicants.  The  dig- 
nity of  the  state  might  better  be  supported. 

Why  should  his  people  have  this  spasm  of  discon- 
tent just  as  United  Italy  was  beginning  to  thrive? 
Surely  these  people  were  better  off  than  their  parents 
or  grandparents.  It  was  annoying.  If  only  he  had 
a  Cavour !  However,  no  Cavour  arose  to  his  succor, 
and  revolution  stalked  over  the  seven  hills  of  Rome. 

It  rumbled  in  the  north,  south,  east,  and  west.  It 
was  on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  drove  in  a  carriage. 
It  howled  at  the  door  of  his  palace.  It  roared  up  the 
Appian  Way,  stirring  the  ancestors  of  Rome  in  their 
tombs.  It  was  everywhere  directed  against  the 
House  of  Savoy.  As  if  another  family  could  do 
better. 

So  they  would  like  a  republic.  They  wished  to 
see  Italy  at  the  mercy  of  plunderers  and  politicians. 
Already  they  were  the  incurable  abscesses  of  the 
new  government.  Humbert's  subjects  demanded 
more  of  the  same  species.  It  was  unbelievable. 

Yet  the  revolution  would  not  down.      Wherever 
20  305 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND   THE  PRIJNCE 

the  Savoys  dwelt,  hordes  of  the  ragged,  dirty,  and 
hungry  huddled  and  yelled  for  bread.  They  had  for- 
gotten the  work  of  the  great  Victor  Emanuele,  and 
now  desired  to  dethrone  his  nephew  and  all  his  kin. 

Humbert  spoke  to  mobs  of  them  and  begged  their 
favor.  Imagine  one  of  God's  appointed  rulers  asking 
the  indulgence  of  his  people  like  a  mere  president ! 
He  might  as  well  reign  over  a  republic. 

Still  the  revolution  grew  in  Rome  and  spread  into 
the  provinces  wherever  one  of  the  House  of  Savoy 
abode.  It  swept  down  from  the  mountains  and  blazed 
up  from  the  peninsula.  Fires  had  been  kindled  in  a 
score  of  places  simultaneously,  yet  who  had  struck 
the  match  none  could  say.  There  were  numberless 
insignificant  leaders  but  no  visible  head,  altho  plans 
and  results  were  definitely  outlined.  • 

Revolution  came  from  Germany,  the  home  of 
unbelief,  said  the  government.  No.  Their  real 
enemies  were  in  France.  Perhaps  after  all  they 
were  within  their  own  borders.  If  not,  they  were 
beyond  the  ocean,  in  the  United  States,  the  abode 
of  all  evil.  Or  could  it  be  that  want  unaided  had 
aroused  these  people? 

It  was  no  longer  to  be  doubted  that  the  situation 
was  alarming.  The  government,  which  heretofore 
had  been  lenient  with  the  revolutionists,  called  out 

the  troops.     Every  royal  palace  was  protected.     A 

306 


THE  LAST  MEETING 


regiment  of  the  King's  guards  was  stationed  in  front 
of  the  Palazzo  Ruspoli. 

"  I  knew  something  like  this  was  coming,  Ales- 
sandro,"  cried  Theodosia,  clutching  her  frightened 
children  in  her  arms.  "  It  is  not  the  fault  of  Hum- 
bert, poor  man,  nor  any  of  the  Savoys,  but  it  is  en- 
tirely mine.  I  know  it.  I  have  been  so  sinfully 
happy.  I  was  too  naughty  and  wicked.  God  did 
not  punish  me  immediately,  but  waited  until  I  am 
trebly  vulnerable  through  thee  and  these  two  babes. 
Now  I  know  I  shall  lose  you  all. " 

Ruspoli  took  them  in  his  embrace  and  said : 

"My  joy, my  life  complete,  as  if  thou  couldst  have 
anything  to  do  with  this.  Thou  dost  not  understand 
the  Italians.  Why,  they  prepare  a  revolution  as 
quickly  as  a  chemist  a  prescription.  This  trouble 
is  no  one's  fault  except  that  of  the  dead,  the  climate, 
and  circumstances.  It  was  made  a  century  before 
thou  wast  born.  It  is  merely  a  step  in  civilization." 

Outside  the  rioters  with  guns,  clubs,  knives,  and 
picks  beat  up  against  the  soldiers.  One  of  the  mob 
fired  a  shot. 

"  What  is  that?  "  cried  Theodosia,  starting  toward 
the  window. 

Ruspoli  held  her  head  in  his  hands  and  pressed  his 
thumbs  tightly  over  her  ears  while  the  report  of 
half  a  hundred  guns  filled  the  air.  There  was  silence 

307 


THE  SOCIALIST  AND    THE  PRINCE 

broken  only  by  the  sound  of  fleeing  feet.  The  Prince 
forced  the  ladies  to  remain  in  a  barred,  secluded  room 
while  he  looked  out  upon  the  street. 

The  soldiers  were  on  guard  and  had  almost  dis- 
persed the  mob.  The  rioters  carried  their  wounded 
with  them  and  a  few  remained  behind,  struggling  to 
remove  a  dead  body.  Ruspoli  saw  these  half-dozen 
men  taken  prisoners,  and  ran  below  to  release  them. 

"  Colonnello,  we  are  not  living  in  the  dark  ages. 
Let  those  poor  fellows  have  the  body  of  their  friend." 

"  You  do  not  understand,  Prince  Ruspoli.  There 
is  the  key,  the  mystery  to  this  revolution.  A  score 
of  men  were  wounded  and  still  the  rioters  advanced 
upon  us  steadily.  When  this  man  fell,  they  broke 
and  his  followers  fought  for  his  body  like  dogs  over 
a  bone." 

"  Let  them  have  it,  Colonnello." 

"  The  government  will  not  allow  it,  Prince  Ruspoli. 
The  outbreak  was  put  down  by  our  soldiers  to-day. 
We  must  have  this  man's  corpse  to  learn  who  the 
other  conspirators  are. " 

Theodosia  was  by  her  husband's  side. 

"  Go  back,  I  pray,"  said  Ruspoli.  "  This  is  no  fit 
place  for  thee." 

"  May  I  not  see  as  well  as  thou,  Alessandro  ? " 
pleaded  she.  The  Prince  and  Princess  Ruspoli  and 

the  colonel  went  down  the  broad  stone  steps  of  the 

308 


THE  LAST  MEETING 


Palazzo  to  the  street  where  the  soldiers  guarded  the 
prisoners.  The  captured  rioters  looked  prayerfully 
at  the  Prince.  They  had  placed  their  coats  under 
their  leader's  body. 

The  chief  lay  quite  rigid,  his  blue  clothing  stained 
with  red  life  gushing  from  his  heart;  his  pallid  face 
was  thin  and  drawn.  The  lips  were  parted.  His 
gray  eyes,  set  in  deep  sockets,  stared  upward  as  tho 
they  could  see.  It  seemed  to  Theodosia  that  they 
smiled  as  they  met  hers.  Extending  across  the 
broad,  thick,  ivory  brow  was  a  pink  mark  like  a  scar. 
The  Princess  clutched  her  husband's  arm.  Their 
glances  met  with  full  understanding  that  it  was 
Stryne. 

"I  told  thee,  Alessandro,  that  this  revolution  is 
my  fault,"  said  she  faintly,  closing  her  lids  on  the 
view  of  the  dead. 

"  That  is  the  man,  he  with  the  scar,  Prince  Ruspoli, 
What  a  miserable  wretch,  an  anarchist  who  believed 
he  could  rule  Italy,"  remarked  the  old  colonel  in 
disgust. 

"  Perhaps  he  could,  better  than  we,  Colonnello. 
There  is  something  in  the  man  which  makes  me 
think  he  should  have  been  a  prince,  but  instead  of  a 
crown  he  received  a  scar.  Colonnello,  I  speak  for  the 
government.  Give  his  body  back  to  his  friends." 

THE    END. 

309 


